


Immortal Champion

by carolroi (CarolROI)



Series: The Immortal Series [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolROI/pseuds/carolroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diandra returns when a drug dealer threatens Blair and Megan's lives.  Can she and Jim work together to save them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Inspector Megan Connor swallowed the last of her wine, and glanced at her watch again. It was nearly midnight, and her informant hadn't shown. With a sigh, she extracted a couple bills from her wallet, and tossed them on the table. What a waste of time this had been. An hour-long drive to Seacouver because her snitch was afraid to meet in Cascade and another three spent waiting for him to show up. At least the jazz had been good, as well as the ribs. She seemed to remember Sandy mentioning he'd been here a couple times. She applauded politely as the guitar player left the stage, followed by the vocalist. The singer had talent, as well as looks. Tall, dark and gorgeous, just the way Megan liked them. What they were doing in a dump like this, she couldn't begin to guess. With a shake of her head, she rose from her table in the far corner of the club, and headed for the exit.

Outside in the darkened parking lot, she searched for her keys. She could hear them jingling in her purse, but couldn't quite put her fingers on them. She shook her bag again, and peered inside, her attention distracted enough that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her, or the metal pipe whistling through the air until it was too late. Pain exploded inside her head, and the world went dark.

* * *

Dee leaned over the bar and gave the bartender a kiss. "Thanks for letting me sit in with you guys tonight. I really needed the lift." The tall woman slid her trench-coat on, and flipped her chocolate locks over the collar.

"You're welcome to join us any time, you know that, Dee," Joe Dawson told her. "I expect to see a lot more of you, now that you're living back at MacLeod's." His heart ached for the Immortal, knowing she was still hurting over the move three months later, even though she had explained to him that it had been the right thing to do. He vowed the next time he spoke to Blair Sandburg, he was going to give him a piece of his mind. Better yet, he would invite him up some night when Diandra was singing the blues, let Sandburg hear for himself what her love for him was putting her through. "It just isn't right, Dee. You were so happy, and that boy breaks your heart."

"Joe, I told you before, it was my decision to leave. It just wasn't going to work out between us; he has other obligations, and so do I." Not that she'd done much with her heightened senses since she'd left Cascade, nor had she gone looking for a companion. Even her former companion, Lydia, hadn't been much help, offering her no more advice other than "When the time is right, you will find each other." At least she could visit Lydia in the spirit world, though she had been trying to cut back on the time she spent there. She'd felt herself starting to walk that thin line between wanting to return to reality, and wanting to stay in the spirit world forever. She wondered what would happen if she did decide not to come back; would her body stay in that suspended state forever? Probably would, until some Immortal came along and took her head. Which, she noted, was beginning to sound awfully attractive.

"Dee, DEE!" Joe's raised voice brought her out of her morbid thoughts. "Dee, go home, talk to Mac. See if he can help you. He told me he was going to Paris next week. Maybe you should think about going with him. A change of scenery might do you good."

She looked into the worried eyes of the Watcher, realizing just how low she'd sunk. "Goddess," she said under her breath. She hadn't realized Blair's absence from her life was affecting her so much. If she didn't watch out, she would end up in the same state she'd been in after Lydia had died: insane. "I'm fine, Joe, I'm fine," she lied. "I'm just tired. I'm going to go home and go to bed." She squeezed his hand, then left the bar.

* * *

SLAP! The combination of the noise and the renewed pounding in her head brought Megan back to semi-consciousness. "Ah... the lady cop, she is awake," said a heavily accented male voice. "You better be awake, chica, because you're going to take a message back to your friends."

She tried to struggle, but found herself held firmly, her wrists pinned behind her back and one foul-smelling hand clamped firmly over her mouth. She forced her eyelids further open and was rewarded with the sight of a 6-inch knife blade being waved in front of her face. Fear supplied her with a surge of adrenaline, and she kicked out, catching the man in front of her in the shin. He grunted, then growled, "So you want to play rough? We can play rough." He punched her hard in the stomach, and she doubled over, trying not to vomit. 

A hand in her hair yanked her back up, and the knife appeared again. "Here's the message you tell your friends in Cascade," the man said, and the knife slashed across her chest, the point cutting through the thin fabric of her blouse and deep into her skin. She screamed, her cry muffled behind the hand over her mouth. A second stroke of the knife was perpendicular to the first, running from the hollow of her throat down between her breasts. She could feel her blood running in hot rivulets over her skin. "Got the message, cop?"

Megan sagged in her captor's arms, her chest on fire, her head throbbing. It was all she could do to stay halfway upright. She felt her attacker's hands on her thighs, pushing up her skirt. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself into unconsciousness, knowing exactly what they were going to do to her. The man holding her said, "We delivered the message; now do we get to have some fun?" 

"Not tonight," came an ice-cold voice from behind the thug with the knife. He made the mistake of turning toward the new comer. A booted foot smashed into his face, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his nose. "Let her go," the voice said to the man still holding Megan. She felt his grip loosen, and she slid to the ground, her knees striking the concrete hard. She pitched forward as darkness descended on her, a scream the last sound she heard.

* * *

Dee watched the two hoodlums drag themselves out of the alley. She probably should have held them for the police, but their victim needed her attention. She crouched beside the barely conscious woman, examining her injuries. She had a heavily bleeding cut up near her hairline, but head wounds always looked worse than they were. Dee turned her head slowly, making out the fresh bruises on her cheek and the split lip. She checked her eyes as the woman groaned; her pupils were slightly dilated meaning a possible concussion. Rolling her onto her back, she found the worst injuries, the two knife wounds. She knew those would need stitches, and possibly the head wound would as well.

The woman moaned again, and tried to move. "Hey, take it easy, you're safe now," Dee reassured her, taking another look at her face now that her eyes were open. "Inspector Connor?" She'd only met the woman once, when she had been arrested for Evan Kendall's murder, but she remembered the Australian exchange officer well. What was her first name? "Megan, it's Diandra Pallas. You're safe now, but I have to get you to a hospital. Think you can make it to my truck?"

"Yeah," Megan replied. Dee helped her to her feet, and when the younger woman swayed unsteadily, she simply picked her up and carried her, Megan being only a few inches shorter than Dee, but almost thirty pounds lighter. Her head sagged against Dee's shoulder, and she was afraid she'd passed out again.

"Megan, come on, talk to me. I know it's hard, but you can't rest right now; you have a concussion."

She gave a little exclamation of pain as Dee slid her into the passenger seat of the Cherokee and buckled her in. "I'm awake, I'm awake," she said. 

Shutting the door, Dee ran around to the other side and climbed in, starting the engine and pulling swiftly out of the parking lot. "Hospital's only a few minutes away, Megan, just hold on."

"No," she whispered. "No hospital."

Goddess, this was all she needed. Who did Connor think she was, Jim Ellison? "Megan, you need stitches, you have a head injury. You need to go to a hospital."

"No," she repeated, her voice stronger. "No hospital, no police."

"Damn it, Megan, you're a cop, you know better than this. We have to report this."

"No, I can't, you can't let anyone know about this," she pleaded.

"You're in some kind of trouble aren't you?" Megan stared out the side window, not answering her question. "Aw, bloody hell, Megan. You and Lobo are a hell of a lot alike." She turned the Jeep toward the loft. "If you die--"she threatened her.

A wry little smile crossed Megan's lips. "You won't let me," she said, and Dee knew she had her there.

Parking behind the dojo, Dee carried Megan inside, riding the freight elevator up to her floor. She hoped to god Mac didn't hear her and come down. That would be all she needed, trying to explain why she'd brought a seriously injured woman home rather than to a hospital. Fortunately, she heard no sound from upstairs, and concluded Duncan was either asleep or not at home. Setting Megan down on the sofa, she gathered what few first aid supplies she had on hand and returned.

"Let's get this shirt off you first; those gashes are the worst." Dee slid the shredded blouse off her and tossed it to the floor. Her bra quickly followed, and Dee leaned Megan back against the pillows, her sensitive fingers tracing the injured area, determining the amount of damage. It was worse than she'd thought. The horizontal slash had cut deep into her pectoral muscle, and Dee knew from experience it would never heal properly even with a doctor's care. Megan would no longer be able to be a police officer, and every time she looked in the mirror, she would have two vivid scars to remind her of what had been. Dee made a quick decision. "Megan, these are worse than I thought. If you don't let me treat them, you could be crippled." That was a little over-dramatic, but it had the desired effect. Megan nodded her okay.

Grabbing a dishtowel, Dee tied a knot in the end of it, and handed it to Megan. "For you to bite down on," Dee told her, "because it's going to hurt worse than getting cut in the first place." The other woman put the towel between her teeth and gazed expectantly at her. "Take hold of my hand and don't let go," Dee said, giving Megan her left hand. Her right she held over the wounds and, taking a slow, deep breath, she concentrated, pushing her Quickening through her hand and into Megan, speeding up the other woman's healing abilities. She felt Megan stiffen at the pain, and her grip on Dee's hand tightened as she screamed into the towel. "Almost done, just let me finish... " Dee told her. "There, it's over." 

Megan collapsed back against the couch, spitting out the towel. "What the hell did you just do?" she asked, her voice shaking. "I figured you were--I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that!"

Dee gave her a reassuring smile. "Just boosted your body's own regenerative power. All that's left is a little redness and that will fade. You won't be able to tell you were ever injured." She moved her hand up to the cut on Megan's head. "While I'm at it--" She applied her talent to that wound also, Megan gritting her teeth and whining in her throat. "--Now I'm done," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Like a truck hit me," Megan replied. She suddenly realized she was half-naked in front of a woman she barely knew. Picking up on her uneasiness, Dee pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over her.

"Any place else hurt?" Dee asked.

"Every place hurts," Megan said.

"Well, let's take care of the cuts and scrapes then." Dee opened a bottle of alcohol and poured some on a cotton ball. Wincing in anticipation, Megan helped her find all the injuries from her attack. When they were finally done, they had a long list: one slight concussion, bruised face and mouth, bruised ribs, finger marks on her wrists from where she'd been held, and miscellaneous abrasions on her hands, legs and knees from falling and/or being dragged into the alleyway. She was also filthy, and her hair was a stringy blood-matted mess.

"Is there any way I can take a shower?" she asked.

"Are you sure? You'll be washing away evidence." Dee's eyes narrowed, and she pinned her gaze on the Aussie. "And while we're on the subject, just why didn't you want the police involved in this?"

"It's personal," she said and refused to say more.

Sighing, Dee led her into the bedroom and showed her the bathroom. She got out some sweats for her to wear when she was through; they would be baggy on her, but comfortable. Once she was satisfied Megan had everything she needed, Dee walked back to the living room and picked up the phone, glancing at the clock as she did so. It was hard to believe it was only a quarter after one. Dialing a number she hadn't called in over three months, she listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. On the third ring, a sleepy voice mumbled, "Hello?"

Those two syllables rocked her to her core, and she realized this was going to be much more difficult than she thought. "Lobo?" she breathed into the phone, not able to trust herself with anything more.

That got his attention, and she could hear Blair sitting up in bed and switching on the light. "Dee, what is it, what's wrong?"

I can do this, she told herself. "I'm fine, Lobo. I'm sorry to be calling so late, but I've got a problem only you and Jim can help me with. A couple guys beat Megan Connor up outside of Joe's tonight." At his startled gasp, she reassured him, "She's okay now, just bumps and bruises, but she refused to go to the hospital, refused to let me call the police, and refused to tell me why. She's in some kind of trouble, Lobo, and since she's your friend, and trouble's your specialty, I called you." There, that hadn't been so difficult after all. 

She heard Ellison's voice in the background, asking who was on the phone. Blair explained the situation to him, and then the sentinel's voice came on the line. "We're leaving right now, Diandra. Be there in about an hour. Don't let her leave."

"Okay," she started to reply, then the part of her that was tuned in to Megan in the other room kicked in. "Sorry, got to go, I think what happened to her just hit her. See you when you get here. I'm at the loft over the dojo." Hanging up the phone, she raced into the bathroom.

* * *

Megan turned on the water, then finished removing her ruined clothes. About all that was salvageable were her shoes. I really liked that skirt, she thought distractedly. Stepping into the shower, she let the water run over her, increasing the temperature until it was so hot she could barely stand it. She scrubbed until her skin turned pink from the abrasive action. In the back of her head, she realized what she was doing, that she was trying to symbolically wash away what had happened to her but she couldn't stop. She washed her hair three times, and still thought she saw blood running down the drain when she rinsed. No amount of soap was going to make her forget her feeling of complete helplessness, and the pain her attackers had gleefully inflicted. She saw the knife wielder's eyes, looking at her defeated, bleeding body with perverted desire. Squeezing her eyes shut made his face go away, but she still felt his hands on her, snaking up her thighs, pawing her under her skirt. With a low, keening cry, she began to shake, freezing cold despite the scalding water, sobs erupting from her aching throat. 

The shower door opened, and a blast of cool air hit her super-heated skin just before the water was turned off and a towel was thrown around her. She felt herself being lifted bodily out of the shower, and set on the floor, an arm going around her waist to support her, while another hand dried her off. She leaned on Dee, letting her tears flow, feeling a sense of security in the other woman's grasp. 

Once she was dry, Dee wrapped the towel around her, tucking the end in so it would stay up, and seating her on the closed toilet lid. Kneeling beside her, Dee pulled Megan into her embrace, holding her until she ran out of tears, murmuring things in a language the Aussie didn't understand. When she finally forced herself to leave the haven of Dee's arms, Dee wiped her face tenderly, then stood, picking up a hairbrush from the counter. 

As she began to gently untangle Megan's dark curls, she said, "Feeling any better?"

Swallowing with difficulty, Megan managed a shaky, "Yeah. Guess I kind of lost it there."

"What happened to you tonight is nothing to be ashamed of. I know you want to blame yourself, that you're telling yourself it shouldn't have happened to you because you're a cop; you should know how to defend yourself." She tilted Megan's chin up so she was looking her in the eyes. "This was not your fault. All the training, all the ability in the world wasn't going to stop those men from doing what they set out to do. If you had been able to fight back, perhaps you would have escaped, or perhaps they just would have killed you. You are never going to know that, though, and if you waste your time and emotion on second- guessing, on what ifs, you are going to drive yourself insane." Her fingers brushed away a stray tear. "I know that sounds harsh, Megan, but I have been there, and your life is too precious to throw away chasing after something that can't be changed. I'm not saying you can't cry and scream and hurt because of what happened. I'm saying don't get bogged down in the might have beens."

Releasing her chin, Dee went back to brushing her hair, and Megan could feel her hands pulling it back off her face and twisting it into a braid. She closed her eyes, leaning slightly against the other woman's hip, letting the gentle motions of Dee's fingers sooth and relax her. Part of her wanted to run and scream and hide from the world, but the rest of her wanted to stay right here forever, in this woman's incredible presence. She felt so safe, so secure. She just knew Dee would let nothing bad happen to her as long as she was by her side.

Dee was just finishing when Megan gave a big yawn. "Pretty tired, huh?" she said.

Megan nodded, offering no resistance when Dee pulled the over-sized sweatshirt over her head. It smelled like Dee, she realized, and that gave her a peaceful sense of security, not unlike the one she had felt as a child, when she hugged her stuffed koala to her chest at night. Helping her into the matching pants, Dee led her into the bedroom and tugged back the covers on the bed. "Come on, climb in," she said.

She did as she was told, leaning her aching head on the soft pillow, which also smelled of Dee she noted, and let the other woman settle the blankets over her. Another yawn escaped her, and she caught at Dee's hand as she turned to leave. "Don't," she said, her dark eyes meeting the other woman's light ones. 

Dee sat down beside her, and Megan rolled onto her side, resting their joined hands in Dee's lap. With her free hand, Dee rubbed the smaller woman's back until her eyes closed, and her breathing slowed to the deep, even rhythm of sleep. She sat there with her for few more minutes, watching her sleep, listening to her heartbeat. 

A knock on the outside door to the loft startled her, and she realized she'd been lightly zoning on the sound of the policewoman's heart. Shaking her head to clear it, she rose, exiting the bedroom, turning out the light and closing the door partway behind her. Crossing the living room, she opened the stairwell door, ushering Jim and Blair inside, but motioning for them to keep it down. 

"Where is she?" Jim asked, tension evident in his voice.

Dee walked into the kitchen, and the two men followed her, depositing their coats on the couch. Dee began preparations for coffee as she said, "She's sleeping right now, which is probably the best thing for her at the moment."

"Is she okay?" Blair asked, and Dee took her first good look at him, noticing the tired lines of his face, and the pain in his eyes.

"Physically, yeah, she's going to be okay. Emotionally, it's going to take a while longer. She was hurt pretty badly, and I think she feels that somehow it was her fault, though I tried to reassure her otherwise."

"Was she raped?" Jim asked bluntly, dealing with the attack on his friend the only way he knew how, like a cop.

Dee shook her head. "No, I intervened before that happened. But they were headed in that direction, and she knows it. She already feels helpless enough; she doesn't need that nightmare too. Bastards!" she spit out. She got three mugs out of the cupboard, trying to control the rage she felt building. 

She felt Blair's presence behind her, his proximity cool water on her fire. "Dee," he said quietly, "maybe if you just told us what happened from the beginning, we would have an idea of where to look for these guys."

She gave a short, mirthless laugh, and turned around, leaning against the counter. "That's the real kicker. She doesn't want anyone to know about this. There was no way I was going to promise her that, no way. This is my city and no one gets away with that shit if I can prevent it." She straightened, her eyes turning to blue flame, looking every bit the fierce warrior she was. The change was electrifying.

Blair took a step back, and Jim felt the hair on his arms stand up. He didn't know how she did that, but it was impressive. "Dee," he said, trying to get her to focus on the details, "we're all pissed about what happened. But you're the only one who was there. We need to know what you know. So can you start from the beginning? Where and when did this happen?"

She started to go for the coffeepot, but Blair beat her to it. As he poured the hot liquid into mugs, she told them everything she knew. "I was singing at Joe's tonight, and got done about midnight. I hung around for about 15-20 minutes, changed my clothes, chatted with Joe. I walked out to the parking lot, and I heard a noise coming from the alley, some guy saying 'Here's the message for your friends in Cascade', then I heard a knife going through flesh, and a muffled scream. When I got to the alley, I saw two guys beating up on a woman, they had her skirt up, and were talking about having fun. I made sure they had anything but," she said with a snarl.

"Can you ID them?" Jim asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, and just about anyone else can too. I left my mark on them. One of them, the guy who cut Megan up, he has a broken nose. The other one has a broken right arm, just above the elbow." Blair handed her a mug, and she took a sip, noticing he had added milk and honey, just the way she liked it. "Thanks, Lobo," she said. He gave her a slight smile, and retreated to his position next to Jim.

"To make a long story short, I recognized Megan and when she refused to go to the hospital, I brought her here, cleaned her up and called you. I don't think she knew those guys in particular, but she knows what this is about. I don't think it was random."

"I don't either. Did you hear anything else, what this message they gave her was?" Ellison asked.

Dee chewed the inside of her lip. "I think the message was what they did to her, not anything they said. They cut her pretty badly, bad enough she would have lost a lot of mobility in her arm, and been scarred for life. They cut a cross into her chest. One line here," she said, running her forefinger from shoulder to shoulder, just above her breasts, "and one here." She drew her finger from just below her throat down between her breasts. "That mean anything to you?"

Blair's face had turned white at her description, and only Dee's quick reflexes caught the coffee cup as it slipped from his fingers. "I can see you know what I'm talking about," she said.

"Cristo," Blair whispered, his eyes wide and horrified.

Ellison put his hand on his guide's shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly. "It's okay, Chief."

Blair twisted out from under his patronizing grip. "No, it's not okay! I'm the one who got Megan involved in this! This is my fault!"

Dee stepped between the two men. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up a minute. I told you what I know, now it's your turn. Who's Cristo?"

Blair just shook his head, so Ellison answered for him. "Cristo is a drug dealer in Cascade. He's currently awaiting a grand jury hearing on whether or not he should be bound over for trial. Blair and Megan were instrumental in gathering the information that led to his downfall. They are the prosecution's star witnesses. Cristo is a real piece of work; crawled to the top of the heap in Cascade by basically eliminating the competition. He has a real ego too, he'd have to, with a name like Jesus Cristo." At Dee's eye roll, he added, "That's his real name, and the cross is his sign. Most of the people we find carved up the way Megan was are dead."

Dee pondered that information for a moment, then noticed Blair was abnormally silent. "Lobo?" she asked. "What is it?"

He turned his worried gaze on her. "Megan," he said, "is she really going to be okay? You said she was hurt really badly. "

"She's going to be fine, Lobo. I healed her. She won't even have a scar. Probably was a good thing she didn't want to go to the hospital; the doctors would have done the best they could, but she wouldn't have fully recovered. So, you don't need to worry about any physical scars."

"Emotional ones are another story, huh?" he said, staring at the floor. "This is all my fault. "

"Sandburg-- " Jim began, but Dee's hand on his arm silenced him.

"Lobo," she said quietly, "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Megan. You can't blame yourself for this. You are not responsible for those men's actions. They made a choice to do what they did to her, a choice you had no part in. Megan is going to need you to be her support, her strength for a while. You can't do that for her if you persist in blaming yourself for this. You're going to dig yourself into a hole of self-pity, and you're going to take her with you. I don't think you want that, do you?"

Blair shook his head. "No, no, I want to help Megan."

Dee took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Okay, then, that's settled." She turned toward Jim. "So, Detective, what do you think? I'm of the opinion that this was Cristo's way of warning Megan not to testify, and it was supposed to be a warning to you, too, Blair."

Jim nodded in agreement. "It makes sense to me, but what I don't understand is why he just didn't have her killed. He's showed no reticence about it before."

Dee was about to reply, when Blair spoke up. "He liked her," he said quietly. "He liked that she had brains, and wouldn't fawn all over him like the rest of the women who worked for him."

This tale was getting more interesting by the minute. When things had cooled off a little, she would have to get the whole story out of them, but right now she had more immediate concerns. "I have a feeling that after tonight, Cristo won't be reticent anymore." She locked gazes with Ellison. "I think Blair and Megan are in a hell of a lot of danger."

At her words, Blair leaned over the sink and was sick. "Sorry," Ellison said in way of apology as he rubbed the stricken guide's back. "It's been a long three months. This whole thing started right after you moved away. You okay there, Chief?"

"Yeah," Blair croaked, then his stomach heaved again.

Dee stood there, watching the interaction between the two men, forcing herself to remain where she was, to not go to her companion, to not take away his pain. She felt her own stomach knot in sympathy with his, and was surprised at how little things had really changed between them. The bond was still there, a blue white cord she could see with her "other" sight, stretching from herself to Blair, twining with the thick gold band that connected him to Ellison as the two lines crossed. She wondered if the sentinel knew just how closely the three of them were joined. Hearing Blair starting to hyperventilate, she held back no longer, joining Jim at the anthropologist's side, placing her hand on the back of his neck. "Take a deep breath, Lobo, and hold it. Now let it out to the count of ten. And another deep breath. That's it," she encouraged him. 

Blair felt his racing heart begin to slow, and his stomach quit churning. After a few more minutes of deep breathing, he felt better, not terrific, but not so out of control. Turning around, he looked up into two pairs of concerned blue eyes. "Chief?" Jim asked.

"I'm okay," he replied, and for the first time in three months, he did feel okay. He had two sentinels to watch out for him now, and the thought that there was safety in numbers gave him comfort. If anyone could keep Megan and him safe, it would be the black jaguar and the wild mare. That thought gave him an idea, one he was sure Jim would hate, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew this was the solution. And Dee had been the one who was always telling him to trust his intuition. "Jim, Dee," he began, "I have a crazy idea."

* * *

"No, Sandburg, absolutely not," Jim Ellison said, putting his coffee mug down on the table.

Dee leaned back in her chair and looked at the two men facing off over her kitchen table. Blair was leaning forward in his seat, his finger tracing an imaginary line on the wood surface. Ellison sat with his arms folded across his chest, his jaw clenched.

"Jim, you're not seeing the beauty of this. Megan and I would be protected at all times by a sentinel, a human early warning system. It's the perfect way to keep us safe," Blair said.

Ellison shook his head. "No, Chief, I'm going to ask Simon to put you and Megan in a safe house."

Blair snorted. "Yeah, right, just make us sitting ducks. You've seen what Cristo's done to other people who've betrayed him. Four walls and an army of cops didn't stop him. Face it man, there's someone on the Cascade PD who's on his payroll. Probably more than one!"

Jim leaned forward, nose to nose with the anthropologist. Before he could reply to Blair's accusations, Dee's hand moved to rest lightly on his wrist. "Is this true, Detective?"

He glanced down at her hand before he answered her, but made no move to shrug it off. "Probably," he admitted, "though we haven't been able to prove it. But Blair's idea is insane, a safe house, even with its possible drawbacks, is the best way to go."

Dee shook her head. "I think Blair's idea is a good one, in fact, I was going to suggest something similar myself."

"You would," Jim muttered.

With a resigned sigh, Dee began to lecture. "You were in the army, Ellison, so you tell me, which is harder to hit, a stationary or a moving target?"

"Moving... " He didn't like where she was going with this.

"And which is more mobile, a small guerrilla force, or a an entire platoon?"

"Guerrillas."

"And would you say that two cops, a martial arts trained anthropologist, and an Immortal Amazon warrior would make a pretty deadly guerrilla force? Oh, and did I mention that two members of the party have heightened senses, so they can detect any threat long before a normal human is aware of it?"

Blair shot Jim a self-satisfied grin. "She's got you, Jim, and you know it."

"All right, but YOU get to convince Simon this is the best idea." Ellison shot back at Blair. He could give as good as he got.

Dee pulled the pad of paper Blair had been scribbling his ideas on over. "So what do we have?"

Blair ticked the items off on his fingers. "You move back into the apartment in Cascade, so that we can watch out for each other. Megan moves in with you--"

"I what?" said an irritated Aussie accent. Megan walked into the kitchen, shooting a glare at Dee. "I asked you not to get anyone else involved in this. Nice to know you can keep your word."

Dee rose to her feet, and approached the policewoman. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Betrayed," Megan shot back, then instantly regretted it as hurt flashed across Dee's face.

"Megan," Blair said, coming to Dee's defense, "that was uncalled for." His angry tone surprised even him. She stared at him for a moment, then sat down in the chair Dee had vacated.

"Connor," Jim said, trying to sooth any ruffled feathers, "what Sandburg meant to say was if the situation were reversed, and he was the one in trouble, he'd want your help. We're not going to force you into anything, but this doesn't just concern you. You know Cristo did this, and you know you're not the only one in danger, Chief is too. All we want to do is make sure the both of you are safe. I know that's what I want. Diandra?"

"Lobo's and your safety is my only concern, Megan, and if you don't like it, tough," the Immortal said. "Now, I asked you a question, how are you feeling?"

Megan swallowed, and looked down at her hands. "My head hurts," she finally said.

Dee moved to get an ice pack for her, and Blair began filling her in on their plans. When she returned with it, he was saying, "So you see, with you living across the hall from us with Dee, we can keep an eye on each other. And when you're at the station, you'll be partnered with Jim, and I'll be with Dee when I'm on campus. So we'll never be-- " He realized that Megan didn't know Dee was a sentinel, and Jim didn't know Megan knew about him. "--Uh, never be without protection." He looked up at Dee questioningly; it was her decision to make.

Walking over to Megan, she handed her the plastic bag of ice wrapped in a towel. "I'm like Jim," she said simply. Both Megan and Ellison stared at her. Dee shrugged. "It's better if it's out in the open. We're going to have to trust each other implicitly in order to do this, and so we need to put all our cards on the table." Or at least the ones that are necessary, she thought. The immortality card didn't need to be played yet.

The Aussie held the ice pack to her temple, and said, "You're a Sentinel." Dee nodded "But that still doesn't make you a bodyguard. You're a civilian." She looked at Jim. "We shouldn't be letting her get involved in this; Captain Banks will have our hides if she gets hurt."

Blair started it with a small giggle that quickly turned into raucous laughter. Jim stared at him for a moment, then joined in until tears rolled down his face. "Connor," he finally managed, "you've never seen her in action. If Cristo knew she was coming after him, he'd be on a plane right now, heading out of the country."

"You know, that's an idea, Ellison. Are you sure you just don't want me to handle this for you? Save us and the taxpayers a hell of a lot of trouble." She gave him a feral grin.

Jim felt a shiver run down his spine at her words. He had almost forgotten just what she was capable of. "Um, no thanks, Diandra. Let's try it by the book first."

Dee glanced at the clock. It was approaching five am. "Can we save the rest of it for tomorrow? I don't know about you guys, but I need to get some rest. Megan and I will take my room, Lobo, you and Jim can crash in the spare room. You know where the blankets and towels are, right?" At Blair's nod, she told them goodnight, and escorted Megan back to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Blair sat down at the table in the break room by Major Crimes. After outlining his idea for protecting himself and Megan to Captain Banks, he had been laughed out of the office by the other man. Dee and Jim were in there now, trying to convince Simon that he wasn't crazy. He'd been pissed when he'd stormed out of the bullpen but now he was just resigned to his fate as the comic relief of the police department. He slumped in the chair and wondered why Jim, Simon, and the rest of the guys couldn't look any further than the surface. He knew they all cared about him, but he felt it was the way you cared about the team mascot. He knew he did a good job for the PD. Sure, he'd made mistakes but then so had every cop on the force, and many times he'd been the one to come through with a lead or a theory that helped them catch the bad guys. In fact, it had been his friendship with one of Cristo's subordinates that had gotten him into this situation to begin with. Hell, if it hadn't been for him, and Megan, they would still be trying to catch him at something.

"Why couldn't Jim and Simon be more like Dee?" he wondered. Sometimes he felt she knew him better than his Sentinel did, knew what made him tick, knew how much he had to offer if only someone would take him seriously. He felt a smile tug at his lips and he gave in to it. She had always believed in him, as a person, as a fighter, and as a Guide. She'd seen things inside him he hadn't known were there. Under her tutelage he had become what he considered a true Guide to his Sentinel, combining what he'd already figured out on his own with the physical abilities of a warrior and the talents of a Shaman. All of those accomplishments meant nothing to Simon and the rest of the PD because he didn't carry a badge or wear a sidearm. He felt the smile fading.

"Why the long face, Sandy?" Megan asked as she entered the break room. Walking over to the vending machine, she dropped in some change and punched the button for a soda. She wore her injuries like a medal of honor, refusing to cover them up with makeup, wanting the whole department to see Cristo for the scum he was. That, Blair thought, must have been Dee's influence. It certainly wasn't Jim's. Last time he'd been beaten up, Jim told him to put on a pair of sunglasses so he "wouldn't scare anyone." The case of the murdering computer hackers had been another example of his instincts, his theories being ignored by the detective.

Realizing he hadn't answered her question, he said, "Just thinking. I'm just so tired of having my ideas shot down out of hand."

Megan sat down across from him. "Jim and Dee are still in there talking to him, Sandy. I'm sure they'll work something out."

Blair laughed halfheartedly. "Yeah, right. I'll bet Jim's siding with Simon right now, and we'll end up dead by tomorrow morning in some supposedly safe house."

"I wouldn't count Dee out. She seems pretty persuasive to me. She managed to talk Ellison into your idea."

Blair brightened considerably. "Yeah, she did. She's good at that."

Megan took a sip of her drink then leaned towards him. "So, Sandy, tell me about Dee. Is she easy to live with? I mean, I haven't had a roommate since I was at university."

Blair grinned. "She is if you don't like to sleep in." He remembered the time they had spent together over the summer, rising at 5 am to run before the day got too hot, the hours spent in the gym as she taught him how to defend himself, the lunches shared on their bench on campus. He had been falling in love with her then, he realized, and it had all come together the evening they had spent flirting and dancing at Joe's. He remembered the first time he'd kissed her, out on the dance floor in their own little world. The love they'd made later that night had been both tender and ferocious, both of them finding what they had been searching for for so long in each other's arms.

"Sandy? You still there?" Megan asked.

Blair looked at her, but didn't really see her. All he could see was Diandra telling him she had to leave. "I--um--I have to--uh, later, Megan," he stuttered. Getting to his feet, he left the break room, forcing himself not to run. Ducking into the men's room, he closeted himself in a stall and gave in to the pain. Until this moment, he'd thought he could do this; he thought he could work with Dee and be just friends. After all he'd gotten along just fine these past three months without her. "Who are you kidding, Blair?" he said under his breath. "You've been a mess." And now what was he going to do? At this moment, all he wanted was to lose himself in her arms and make the whole ugly world go away.

* * *

"How many times do I have to tell the two of you no?" Simon said, biting the end of his cigar in frustration. "I'm not going to risk Sandburg and Connor's lives just because you want to play head games with Cristo."

"Sir," Jim said, "right now Cristo is out on bail, and he is so sure he's going to get out of the drug charges that he isn't even making an attempt to flee. He's laughing at us Captain, thumbing his nose at the PD."

"If we can catch some of his men making a try on either Blair or Megan, we can get him on attempted murder charges," Dee argued. "Get him behind bars and then really put the moves on his operation, shut them down completely."

"What's with this we stuff, Dr. Pallas? You're not a police officer; hell you're a history teacher. Why are you sticking your neck out?"

Dee drew herself up to her full height and crossed her arms over her chest. "Because Blair and Megan are my friends. And if that's not enough for you, I am Seacouver's Champion. Cristo brought his evil to my territory when his men attacked Megan. I am honor-bound to defend her and Blair." She paused, her brow furrowing in confusion at an overwhelming rush of emotion. Glancing at Ellison, she saw he was experiencing the same thing. 

"Sandburg?" he asked, meeting her gaze. She nodded, and as one, they headed for the door, leaving Simon shaking his head in frustration.

Sentinels, he thought. Way more trouble than they're worth.

* * *

The sentinel and champion easily followed the tangled trail of Blair's distress, pushing open the door of the men's room barely a minute after they'd left Banks' office, their simultaneous questions of "Lobo?" and "Chief?" echoing in the empty room.

Blair came out of his hiding place, his red-rimmed eyes flicking quickly from Dee to Jim. "What? What did I do?" he asked.

"Nothing, Chief," Ellison said, "we were just worried about you."

Staring at his partner, he asked, "Why?"

"You were--are upset. We both felt it," Dee answered him.

"Both of you?" This was something new. Diandra had felt his pain before and come running, the night Jim had gone off on him at the hospital, but for Jim to sense what he was feeling--wow. What had triggered that?

Jim's voice interrupted his theorizing. "Are you okay, Chief?"

"I-- um--" Shit, there was no lying to them; they probably knew better than he did what was going on. "I need to talk to Dee, Jim. Alone if you don't mind."

"Okay, Chief," Ellison replied and left the room.

Dee raised an eyebrow at him but didn't say a word. "Can we go somewhere other than the john?" he asked. Nodding, she held the door for him as they exited.

A couple minutes later, they were seated on the steps in the stairwell, it being the closest and most private place Blair could think of in a hurry. She sat down next to him, her hand closing over his where it rested on his knee. "What's going on, Lobo?" she asked softly, though she had a pretty good idea what was bothering him since it was the same thing troubling her.

Giving her a quick glance, he looked down at his feet. "I don't know if I can do this, Dee. Not the cop stuff, I'm used to being in danger--god that sounds awful doesn't it?" He sighed. "I don't know if I can do the 'us' thing. I thought--I thought I was fine, you know? You left and I hurt for awhile, and then I got caught up in this case and kind of pushed everything I feel for you aside. But I can't hide from those feelings anymore." He looked up at her, his eyes glistening. "I still love you. I thought it would fade, thought it would go away, but sitting here with you right now, I--I just want you to hold me and not ever let go. Stupid, I know."

"No," she replied, "No, it's not stupid at all. Ever since last night, since the moment I knew I had to call you, I've been having the same feelings. This is not some infatuation, some crush, Lobo. This is the real thing." She ran the back of her fingers lightly over his cheek and he leaned into her touch, his eyes closing in bliss. "Nothing's changed for me either; just the thought of being in the same room with you makes me high. But we can't allow ourselves to give into those feelings now. I don't know if we ever can. And yes, I know that hurts like hell, but we have Jim to think about. I will not come between the two of you."

Blair ran a hand over his face wearily. "Jim's better than he was. I don't sense the hostility towards you that was there before. He's more at ease around you, and is agreeing to work with you instead of against you. He never would have done that three months ago. Why do you suppose that is?"

Dee was silent for a moment, thinking the situation over. "It may have something to do with the fact that I'm in Seacouver, that I've claimed my territory, and right now it doesn't conflict with his. I also haven't been intimate with you in nearly three months. He knows you're his; there's not that uncertainty there was before. That may change once I move back into the loft next to yours and I spend more time with you."

He refused to give up hope. "But if things don't change, if Jim is okay working with you, once this stuff with Cristo is all over, can we--could we give us another try? I mean look at us," he said, gesturing to their positions on the step. "We started out two feet apart and now smoke couldn't get between us."

Dee realized he was right. They had gravitated toward each other, so close they were touching from their shoulders all the way down to their feet, and it still wasn't close enough. She wanted him under her skin; she wanted him to be a part of her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then said, "I don't know, Lobo, I don't know. I want us to be just as much as you do, but I don't know if that can ever happen. I still don't have a companion, you know, and Jim may interpret any overture on my part towards you as my trying to take you away from him again."

"So you're saying no," Blair said, the pain in his blue eyes intensifying, if that were possible.

Goddess, she wanted to hold him, needed to hold him. "I'm just saying I don't have any answers, Blair. This is killing me just as much as it's killing you. I--last night, before I rescued Megan, Joe was telling me how sad I seemed, a big change from the person I was the last time he saw me with you. He was right, I was unhappy, I am unhappy. I even caught myself thinking that maybe 2,800 years is enough--”

"No," he said in a stunned whisper, "no, god, Dee, no... " He gave in to the desire to put his arms around her, to comfort her, and be comforted. She leaned into his embrace, hugging him so tightly he had trouble breathing but he didn't care. It had been bad for him, he realized, but not so difficult that he wished he was dead. Why was it so much worse for her? The thought struck him that he had at least had Jim, another person, another connection, a support system for him to turn to, and it had brought them closer together, healing the tensions his relationship with Dee had caused. But Dee had no one else, no companion, no soulmate to ease the pain of her broken heart. This was his fault. "I'm sorry, Dee, I'm sorry. I should have fought harder to make Jim understand to-- I don't know, I just should have done more, should have kept in closer touch-- "

"Hey, hey, it's not your fault, Lobo. Shit happens, even to something as wonderful and beautiful as what I feel for you. Maybe it's just not my lot in life to be blissfully happy and completely fulfilled. Maybe the fates have more important things for me planned."

Blair's hand cupped her cheek, and he gazed into her tear-filled eyes. "What in the world can possibly be more important than love?" At his words, her tears spilled over, and she sobbed silently against his shoulder, trying to stop, trying to pull herself together and failing. 

He held her, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, letting her cry. He didn't know what else to do. He wanted to promise her that things would be okay, that they would be together forever, but with everything that was going on around them, he didn't even know if he would be alive tomorrow, let alone if they could make things work between them. That uncertainty was what convinced him. Lifting her head from his shoulder, Blair kissed her, his lips melting into hers, promising her that no matter what happened, he would always love her.

When they finally came up for air, she said, "You always know just what I need. You are my angel."

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he wiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks. "You are the angel, Dee, the strong, avenging kind with the flaming sword. I'm lucky to be the wind beneath your wings."

She kissed him then, her mouth soft and tender against his, her hands caressing his face. "We will get through this," she promised him when they parted, "and we will find a way to make this work, I swear it." He nodded in response, once again putting his trust in her. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and pulling him up with her, "let me go splash some water on my face, and we'll tell Captain Banks where he can shove his bloody safe house."

Blair followed her back up the stairs, his spirits buoyed by the return of the Dee he knew, the one who took names and kicked butt. There would be no stopping the four of them now.

* * *

After much argument, Captain Banks had finally relented, and allowed the two Sentinels to handle it their way. He hadn't liked it much, but he would rather be kept abreast of their plans, than be shut out altogether. 

"So where to now?" Megan asked, as the four of them exited police headquarters.

"Dee will take you to your place first, so you can pick up some things, then we'll meet back at the loft," Jim said, and Dee nodded in agreement.

They started down the steps toward the cars, lulled into a little bit of false security, since they were in the Cascade PD parking garage. Dee caught the small noise before Ellison did, perhaps because he was used to the sound of a safety being flipped off. "DOWN!" she yelled, just as bullets sprayed the area where they were standing.

Dee shoved Megan to the ground, hoping to god Ellison had done the same with Blair. "Stay down," she growled in the other woman's ear, then she was on her feet, vaulting over the trunk of the car they'd ducked behind, heading for the gunman. Following the sound of running feet, she chased him out of the garage and down the access alley, too far away to stop him as he dove into a waiting BMW. The car took off with a squeal of tires, heading straight for her.

There was nowhere to go but up. Three long strides, a leap, and she was on the hood, watching the shocked expressions on the perps' faces as she continued over the roof, tucking into a somersault, and landing on her feet behind the speeding vehicle. A flick of her wrist and her knife was in her grasp; another snap of her hand and it buried itself to the hilt in the passenger side rear tire. 

She heard Ellison fire off a shot behind her, the bullet whistling past her ear to puncture the other rear tire. The BMW fishtailed around the corner and rolled. "Jesus, Pallas!" Jim exclaimed as he ran up to her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded and followed him to the street. Several other cops were already at the scene, but the gunman and his driver had abandoned the car and disappeared. She stood there, surveying the chaos for a moment, watching as Ellison went to work, then she turned back toward the station, trusting that the sentinel wouldn't have followed her if Megan or Blair had been injured. 

Blair met her just inside the front doors, his face worried. "You okay?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Lobo. Where's Megan?" She noticed he was staring at her left shoulder. "What? I get something on me?" She brushed at her coat and her hand came away sticky and red. "Shit, I didn't even feel it. Does it show much?"

He nodded, then took his scarf off and placed it around her neck, draping the end of it over the bloodstain. "That ought to get past everything but a really close look. Megan's still out back, directing the team out there." At Dee's irritated look, he said, "It's okay, there's a dozen other cops with her; she's perfectly safe."

"I'll feel better once we're at the loft and have time to go over some ground rules and make some plans." She followed Blair back through the station and out to the garage once again. She watched the team work for a while, noticing with disgust that her Cherokee wasn't going anywhere, at least not until forensics finished digging the bullets out of it. With a sigh, she sat down on the bumper to wait.

"This yours?" Ellison asked as he came to stand beside her. He handed Dee her throwing knife. 

"Yes," she said, glancing up at the bemused expression on his face. "Don't make fun of my weapons, Detective. I was just as accurate as you were with your gun."

"I wasn't laughing at you. I was just wondering how many other goodies you have stashed in that coat of yours."

"Just be glad you didn't make me walk through the metal detector when I entered the building," she replied with a grin.

"I'm curious. Where did you learn that little trick you did in the alley?"

"Hmm, jumping over the car? A very long time ago, I used to vault. Not the gymnastics kind, but the horse kind, like trick riders you see in the circus. I just thought of the car as a great big horse, and up I went."

Jim shook his head. He imagined if he got her started she would have more stories than Sandburg. 

"So what now?" she asked, for once leaving the decision up to him.

"You take Megan and Blair back to the loft and get settled. I'll be along as soon as this is wrapped up."

Dee got to her feet and waved a hand at her Jeep. "Any suggestions as to how we'll get there?"

Ellison made a face, but dug in his pocket and tossed her the keys to the Ford. "Don't scratch it," he warned.

She rolled her eyes in reply. "You know we're going to have to start being a little more aggressive, don't you? Act instead of react?"

The detective nodded. "Leave that to the Captain and I. We know which rocks to turn over. We will trace this back to Cristo, and then he'll be cooling his heels in jail while awaiting the grand jury."

"My offer still stands, you know, to make this all go away." Sliding her hand inside her coat, she adjusted the hilt of her katana, a motion not lost on the sentinel.

"I thought you were one of the good guys," he said softly, the thought of a rogue Immortal with her talents running loose in Cascade making him very nervous.

"I am, Ellison, I am. But Blair is the closest thing I have to a companion, and that protection instinct has a way of bulldozing over anything else. I'll try and keep a lid on it, but I won't make you any promises, not as long as he is in danger." Her flashing eyes dared him to push the issue.

Knowing that he would kill to protect Blair also, even if he might hesitate a fraction of a second longer than she would, Ellison dropped the subject, but not before saying, "Just don't let Sandburg see you like this. I'm afraid it would knock you right off that pedestal he has you on." With a nod, Dee left to gather up her charges.

* * *

Megan waited patiently in the hallway, her arms loaded with a hastily packed duffle bag and two sacks of groceries. Blair stood behind her, similarly weighted down, both of them waiting for Diandra to find her keys. Finally, with a disgusted shrug, she gave up. "Must have left them with my Jeep. You've got yours, don't you, Lobo?"

Nodding, he handed her his bags and produced a key ring from his pocket, fitting a key into the lock and swiftly opening the door to Diandra's old loft. Megan turned that tidbit of information over in her mind. "Sandy has a key to her place?" She'd taken a wild guess that they were lovers when she'd come to back up Captain Banks' arrest of Diandra and walked in to find her dressed in a skimpy robe and Sandy in his underwear. But Dee had moved to Seacouver right after that, and she'd assumed that their fling (she could hardly call it anything else, knowing Sandy's attention span) was over. When she had a moment alone with him, she would ask, she decided. 

She entered the apartment, noting it was still fairly well furnished for a place Dee had vacated. Seeing her expression, Dee said, "The place in Seacouver belongs to my friend, MacLeod, and he had it already furnished. I just ended up leaving most of my big stuff here, since I crash here whenever I'm at the university late." Dee set her bags down on the kitchen counter. "I'm going to go take a shower. Can you put stuff away and show Megan around, Lobo?"

Blair nodded in response and started to set groceries on the counter. Megan handed him things when he asked for them, and watched him stow them away efficiently. If one could judge the seriousness of a relationship by how well a man knew a woman's kitchen, she guessed Dee and Sandy were an old married couple. Leaning on the breakfast bar, she propped her chin on her hand. "So, Sandy, you never really answered my question from before; what's Dee like as a roommate?"

He seemed a little startled, dropping an unopened package of spaghetti on the floor, but recovered well, with none of the weirdness he'd gone through before. "She's okay, if you're into working out, meditating and fencing."

"Fencing? I haven't fenced since university in Sydney."

"Good, see, you have something in common already." Blair put a large pot of water on the stove, and Megan guessed he'd decided on pasta for dinner. "Come on, I'll show you around. This is the kitchen, the living room," he waved a hand at the sofa and empty entertainment center behind her. "Laundry room and half bath." He indicated a door off the kitchen. 

She followed as he headed toward the large open space she glimpsed through the openings in the living room bookcase. "Workout studio." Most of the equipment was still there, since it duplicated many of the items at the dojo, though most of her swords were gone.

Megan wandered around the gym, taking in the weight equipment, punching bags and workout mats. "Quite the fitness fanatic, I'd say."

"She has to be," Blair said, then looked like he hadn't meant to voice that out loud. "To keep in such great shape, I mean."

Megan filed his slip away under curious things about Dee and realized the list was getting rather long. She admired one of the epees hanging on the wall. "Do you fence, Sandy?"

Blair shook his head vehemently. "No, not me. I asked Dee not to teach me."

Megan turned around to face him, a little puzzled. "Why not? You two seem so close, I thought you might share an interest."

"I'm just not into fighting with sharp, pointed objects. She taught me to kick box, though, and I'm pretty good with a staff."

"Finally got tired of being thumped, eh? I don't blame you," she said, her fingers unconsciously tracing the bruise on her cheek.

"I'm sure if you ask Dee, she would work with you, help you get your confidence back."

"I don't know," Megan sighed. "I'm still pretty shook up about the whole thing, and Dee, well she kind of scares me a little," she said, remembering being mysteriously healed by her.

Blair headed back to the kitchen to check his water. "Dee would never hurt you, Megan. There's no reason to be scared of her."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, as he began to slice tomatoes. 

He shook his head. "Just talk to me. I need to keep busy, keep my mind off this afternoon."

Megan sat down at the breakfast bar again. "Okay, so I'll keep being nosy. Let me know when I've crossed a line." She gave him a grin and he smiled back at her through a curtain of hair.

He went back to slicing produce, pushing his chestnut locks out of his eyes a couple times before giving up and digging in his pocket for a hair tie. "Oh, Sandy, that's gorgeous," she exclaimed, catching a glimpse of the silver wolf's head clasp. He handed it to her, letting her inspect the intricate carving, watching her turn the piece of jewelry so that the blue stones for the wolf's eyes glowed in the light. 

She handed it back to him, as he said, "Dee gave it to me, when she... left." A fleeting expression of intense sadness crossed his face, then he pulled his hair back, fastening it into a ponytail with the clasp. He went back to his chopping after dumping the package of spaghetti into the now boiling water.

"Sandy, if talking about Dee is going to make you upset--"

"No, no, I'm fine, we're fine, just some painful memories, that's all. Go ahead, ask away."

Megan wracked her brain for something he would find interesting to talk about. "Okay, how about this, if Dee's a sentinel, like Jim, then how come she doesn't have a guide, someone like you, as a partner?"

Blair stirred the pasta, and Megan could swear she saw him tearing up. He turned his back to her for a moment, and she watched him rub at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Finally he answered her question. "Dee's guide is dead; she died a long time ago, and Dee repressed her senses, until she met me."

She struggled to digest that bit of information. Did that mean that Blair was kind of a surrogate guide for her? Was that why Jim had always seemed so irritable whenever her name had been mentioned? He had been acting really weird when they had been chasing Alex Barnes; did Diandra have the same kind of affect on him? She couldn't stop the words from pouring out of her mouth. "How is it that Jim can work with her without that attraction/hate thing, like he had with Barnes?"

Blair laughed lightly. "I asked her the same question. She said it was because he wasn't her type." He bowed his head over the salad fixings again, trying to hide the crimson flush on his cheeks.

_Okaaay,_ Megan thought. _That's more than I wanted to know._ She changed the subject. "Why does she call you 'Lobo'?"

That put a smile on his face. "She saw my spirit guide when we first met. It's a wolf. She told me I reminded her of a wolf, fierce, protective, and playful and affectionate at the same time." 

This was good, she had him talking and his mind off whatever was bothering him. "Tell me about spirit guides," she said. "Tell me everything about being a guide. If I'm going to be working closely with Dee and Jim, I'll need to know how to do what you do, when you aren't there, right?" 

Blair stared at her for a moment, wondering if he should. It would take some of the pressure off him, if she could help out. He didn't know what guiding two sentinels at the same time would be like, but he was sure it would be difficult. She might not even have the talent for it; he'd come to realize from the things that Dee had told him about companions that not just the champions were genetically different. "Okay," he said, "but you have to swear to keep this between the four of us. And if you have any questions, ask Dee, or me okay? Jim still has a hard time with this metaphysical stuff." 

Leaning closer, Megan crossed her heart with her forefinger. "I swear it won't leave this room."

Confident she would keep her word, Blair started to teach. "The most important thing a guide or companion has to guard against is the zone-out--"

* * *

Yawning, Dee ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back behind her ears, then returned her attention to the term paper she was grading. A soft knock at the door and a muffled "It's me," interrupted her. Rising, careful not to disturb the other occupant of the sofa, she went to answer it. Opening the door, she let Ellison in, putting a finger to her lips as a warning to keep it down. 

"You're pretty late," she told him, motioning for him to follow her into the kitchen. "Have you eaten? We saved you some spaghetti." At his head shake, she went to the fridge and began preparing a plate for him.

Ellison hung his coat up on the hook by the door and entered the kitchen. "Catch," Dee said, tossing him a beer. He raised an eyebrow at her in surprise, but twisted the cap off anyway. "Lobo's idea, he threw a six-pack in the cart while we were shopping. How did it go with the investigation?"

"Not well," he replied. "We got some prints off the car, and know who the shooter was, but tying him to Cristo is going to be hard. And we have to get our hands on him first. With our luck, he's split town, along with his accomplice."

Dee ladled sauce over the plate of pasta and stuck it in the microwave. "Doesn't this whole thing strike you as kind of odd? I mean the guys who worked Megan over were sent for a specific reason. This afternoon's shooting was just plain sloppy."

Ellison leaned against the counter, taking a long swallow of the beer, a little surprised he felt this comfortable around the Immortal. "I don't know. Could be when the attack didn't work, he just decided brute force was better than finesse. And sloppy would have been pretty effective, if you hadn't yelled when you did. Cristo would have gotten his way. So, thanks."

She smiled at him in response, the first, real, genuine smile he'd ever received from her, and Jim found himself a bit awestruck. If this was the way she looked at Sandburg, no wonder he had been in love. 

"You're welcome," Dee said, just as the microwave dinged. Setting the meal on the table for him, she dug out some silverware, and tracked down the Parmesan cheese. "I've got to get back to grading papers, but just whisper if you need anything." She gave him a small grin. "Megan's asleep upstairs, and Lobo's out on the sofa. If you want seconds, there's still some left in the fridge."

Returning to the living room, she picked up the paper she had been working on and tried to remember where she had left off. Twenty minutes later, Jim joined her, taking a seat in the armchair across from the sofa. He watched her for awhile, listening to the scratch of her pen on paper. Finally, he said, "How do you do it?"

Glancing up at him, she said, "Hmm, do what? Grade papers at a time like this? It has to be done."

Shaking his head, he pointed to the sleeping anthropologist curled up next to her, his head resting on a pillow in her lap. "He hasn't slept this deeply in weeks, not since this whole thing with Cristo started. One afternoon with you and he's out like a light. What's your secret?"

Dee thought about that for a moment then answered, "Trust." She ran her hand slowly down Blair's back. "Lobo trusts me completely, as I do him. He knows I won't let anything happen to him." She looked up at the sentinel, finding a sad, haunted look in his eyes. "Ellison... Jim," she said gently, "I know trust is very hard for you, but you have to find a way to trust Blair. You are the most important thing in the world to him. He would never hurt you, never betray you."

Jim looked away, unable to meet her steady gaze, her words highlighting his deepest fears. He was silent for a few minutes, but sensed she was waiting for him to answer her. Instead he asked a question. "How can you trust him so completely? You've known him for barely six months."

"How can you not trust him? You've known him for over three years." She bit back her next comment. He wouldn't learn anything if she started arguing with him. "Jim," she began again, "I will admit I have a bit of an advantage over you in the trusting department. I was born with the ability to see people's true motives, things they may not even know themselves. It has its advantages; I know who I can depend on, and who I can't. I can depend on Blair, as can you."

Ellison rolled his eyes. It wasn't enough that she was a sentinel, and immortal, now she was psychic, too.

Dee tried again to get through to him. "The sentinel/guide relationship is more than just friendship. It's a spiritual bond between two people destined to be together, soulmates if you will. You can deny it all you want, but how else can you explain your relationship with Blair? He's not someone you would normally give the time of day to, Ellison, and here you are with him as your partner, your roommate for god's sake." Seeing he wasn't buying it, she tried another tact. "What would you say if I could show you that bond?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you let me show you what I see when I look at the two of you?" She reached her hand out to him. "Take my hand, and close your eyes." Intrigued, Jim did as he was told, feeling a small surge of energy as her hand closed around his. "Let yourself relax into a light trance state, squeeze my hand when you feel like you're there."

Closing his eyes, Jim took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly, relaxing his body as he exhaled. The more relaxed he became, the more energy he could feel flowing from her to him. He tightened his grip on her hand and heard her tell him to open his eyes. The first thing he focused on was Sandburg. His guide slept on, undisturbed, but now there was a faint glow around him, a dully gleaming copper color. A thick band of pulsing gold energy stretched from Blair to himself, anchored firmly at both ends. Somehow this seemed right to him, as if he instinctively knew what their bond should look like. Tearing his eyes away from Blair, he looked at Dee and was so stunned he almost let go of her hand.

Where Blair glowed, she burned. Her aura was a brilliant blinding blue, edging into violet. Its borders snapped and crackled, small tendrils snaking off into the darkness surrounding her. A blue-white vine of power linked her to his guide, and if he stared hard enough at it, he could see it wrapping around the link between himself and Blair, the blue mingling with the gold. "What in the hell?" he whispered.

"We are bound together, Jim, you, Blair and I. It's how we found you when Kendall had you prisoner. We used this connection to find you in the spirit world." She let him look a while longer, then said, "Close your eyes." He did as he was told and he could feel the energy fading. When her grip on his hand disappeared, he opened his eyes.

"How did you do that?" he asked, still amazed by what he had seen, but wary that it might have been a trick.

"I let you see through my eyes, the same way Lobo and I saw through yours when Kendall had you. The two of us are connected through Blair; if he wasn't here, and I hadn't been touching him, I couldn't have done it. He is a conduit between us." Dee looked down at him, her expression affectionate.

Ellison didn't know whether to believe her or not. He knew what he'd seen, and it had felt real, but he didn't have enough experience with that kind of thing to know for sure. As for when he had been held captive at the lighthouse, Blair had told him a tale about taking a walk with Dee in the spirit world and finding the jaguar. He'd had visions himself, but never anything as detailed and as complicated as what Blair had described. Of course, he hadn't had a 2,800 year-old Immortal priestess with him either. As fascinating as the concept was, it made him uneasy. Blair was his guide, after all, and it seemed wrong for him to have a connection to anyone else. He said as much to Dee.

Shrugging her shoulders, Diandra said, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Ellison, but it can't be undone. I did what I thought was right at the time, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I can't go poking around in your mind or anything, if that's what you're afraid of. And I can't break the bond between you and Blair. Only death can do that. Believe me, you don't want to go through that."

Leaning back in his seat, Jim thought her words over. He still didn't trust her, not really, not as far as he himself was concerned, but he knew she would never hurt Blair. In that way, she was nothing like Alex Barnes. Focusing on her once again, he watched her work on her papers, balancing the stack on the arm of the sofa as she wrote, her left hand still resting on Blair's shoulder. As he regarded them, Blair's hand reached up and captured hers, tugging it down to rest against his chest, hugging it to him. With a little sigh of bliss, he burrowed closer to her and slid back into a deep sleep. That innocent action bothered Jim tremendously and he realized it wasn't the fact that Diandra was a sentinel and Blair a guide that upset him. It was the fact that, quite obviously, Blair was still in love with her and she with him. Jealousy? Was that what he was feeling? Fearful of what he might find if he examined that emotion too closely, he slammed the door on it and locked it away with everything else about himself he had trouble dealing with.

Getting to his feet, he shook his partner gently. "Come on, Chief, it's late. Let's get you across the hall and into bed." Dee shot him a look of puzzled irritation, but she made no move to stop him when he helped the still groggy anthropologist to his feet and led him out the door. 

Once they were gone, she locked up for the night, turning out the lights and heading up the stairs. Something had happened down there, something important, but she was damned if she could figure out what it was. "Oh well," she told herself with a yawn as she changed her clothes and slipped quietly into the bed with Megan, "it'll come out sooner or later. Nothing stays hidden forever."


	3. Chapter 3

Wind rushed past her face gloriously, and she snapped her wings once, then spread them wide, feeling the updraft catch under her feathers, lifting her higher. The sun was hot on her back and with a scream of joy she tucked her outstretched limbs in, diving toward the white capped waves below. Just before she plunged into the water, she fanned her wings out, stopping her downward motion, skimming inches above the surface, her strong talons stretching for the flash of silver scales just out of reach. Disappointment filled her briefly, as the meal slipped away, but it really didn't matter, on such a gorgeous day as this. Powerful wing strokes lifted her into the sky again, and she soared toward the coastline, content with her lot in life.

A keening cry split the air, and a falcon came into view below her, red wings shining golden in the sun. Curious, she followed the other raptor in a slow spiral toward the cliffs, wondering what fascinated the bird so. As she drew closer to the lush green plateau, she spotted what had interested the falcon. A black mare galloped exuberantly through the meadow, bucking, jumping and rearing, obviously having a wonderful time. 

The red falcon buzzed the horse once, then alighted atop a giant pile of stones that some god had carelessly dropped in the middle of the broad, flat plain. She followed, her black and white wings flapping powerfully as her claws grasped the edge of a rock. Settling herself, she cocked her head to the side, admiring the sleek lines of the smaller bird, noticing with interest the sharp blue eyes that peered at her intently. 

The falcon's image blurred, then solidified, and in its place perched a small woman, dressed in a green tunic, over which she wore some kind of leather armor. A bow and a quiver of arrows hung across her shoulders, and a sword was belted at her waist. Her long red hair was bound in a braid that reached the middle of her back, and a gold band encircled her head. She held out her gloved hand to her, her voice coaxing. "Come on, young one. You saw what I did, concentrate, and you can do it as well."

She blinked her dark eyes once, twice, then shook herself. When she stopped, she was no longer a beautiful black and white osprey, but a slim, russet haired woman wearing the red and green tartan of her clan. She looked down at herself in surprise, taking in the short, black wool jacket over a brilliant white, ruffled blouse and the traditional great kilt, the excess length thrown over her shoulder and pinned in place with a large brooch. An elaborately decorated sporran hung around her waist, and she felt the weight of something pulling at the leather strap that ran diagonally across her chest. Turning her head to the side, she could just make out the hilt of a claymore protruding above her left shoulder. 

Turning frightened eyes toward the other woman, she said, "Where am I? Better yet, who am I? And who are you?"

The smaller woman smiled at her reassuringly. "You are dreaming, young one. You have taken your first step toward becoming who you are destined to be, by crossing over to the spirit world. I am the Companion, and I will be your guide in this place. I will teach you some of what you need to know to take your place beside the Champion. The rest you must learn in the outside world." She gestured with her hand, and a great silver wolf leapt out of nowhere to sit upon the rock next to the frightened Aussie. He leaned against her, a friendly whine emitting from his throat, and then his wolfish tongue was bathing her face affectionately. "He is the Guide. Listen to what he says, watch what he does, for this is the way to learn from him." 

The Companion turned her gaze back to the black mare, who was now rolling luxuriously in a patch of dirt. Climbing to her feet, she shook herself violently, raising a cloud of dust. With a kick of her heels, and a leap to the side, she was off again, racing through the tall grass. The wolf jumped from the rock and chased after her, growling and whining as they played together. Their dance grew more and more aggressive, until the mare swung her lowered head to the side, bowling the wolf over. The Aussie was alarmed for the wolf, and started to climb down from her perch when--

Megan woke to the sound of raised voices. It took her a moment to remember she was in Dee's loft instead of her own apartment. Rolling over in the empty bed, she propped herself up on her elbow, trying to see over the railing into the studio below and failing. Crawling to the end of the bed, she sat up, and was just able to make out Dee and Sandy standing on a practice mat, both dressed in workout clothes. Dee had hold of Sandy's left hand, and was examining some kind of blue mark on his wrist, and while she wasn't exactly yelling, Megan could tell from her expression that she wasn't happy with him. 

Getting out of bed, she grabbed her robe, noticing that it was only 6 am, for god's sake, and they were starting the morning out with an argument. Megan headed toward the stairs, determined to put a stop to it.

* * *

Dee opened the door before Blair had a chance to knock, having heard him leave 307 and head across the hall. "Good morning," she said, giving him a smile. Despite the stress she knew he had been under, he did look well rested, and his blue eyes were clear and alert.

"Are you sure it's morning?" he joked, "It's still dark out."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Smart ass. Are you ready for a workout?"

Nodding enthusiastically, he followed her into the studio. "Yeah, I really haven't sparred with anyone since you... moved. But I have been doing the katas you taught me, and working out with the bags and my staff. I shouldn't be too rusty."

Dee moved to the center of the floor, stretching. "I thought you were going to get Jim to work with you."

He copied her movements, stretching first his calves, then his hamstrings. "I was... but both of us kind of felt uncomfortable about it, and I didn't want to push. I don't think he really has the temperament for it. Patience is not his strong suit."

"No!" Dee said sarcastically, then sobered. "You really should try again, Lobo. It would be good for the two of you, help you work through some of the doubts Jim has."

Blair paused, bent over one leg, and looked at her. "What doubts?" he asked, his tone a little frightened.

She chewed her lip. _Uh oh, me and my big mouth,_ she thought. "Um, well, Jim and I had a little talk last night, while you were asleep. You know he has some serious problems with trust, don't you?"

Straightening, he folded his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I know about them. What does that have to do with me?" Dee didn't say anything, letting him work it out on his own. His eyes widened, and he gave a startled gasp. "You mean he has problems trusting me? Come on, Dee, you're kidding, right? I mean, after all we've been through, of course he trusts me... doesn't he?" The pain in his eyes cut right through her.

"I'm sorry, Lobo," she said. "I think deep down inside, he does, he just has to second guess every move you make, analyze everything you do. He has a hard time just going with his gut when it comes to personal relationships. My guess is he's been burned plenty of times before." 

Blair nodded. "He didn't have the most supportive family growing up, and he doesn't make friends very easily, not to mention his failed marriage. "

Dee went back to stretching. "That's why working out together would be good for you. It's something that you both like, and you're both good at, so neither one of you feels you're making a concession for the other. It teaches teamwork and trust, and if you can rely on each other in the gym, then you feel that much more confident outside it." She began to move through a slow kata, Blair mirroring her actions.

"I can see where you're coming from, but convincing Jim of that is going to take some doing." 

Dee gave him a grin. "I have an idea that might work. We're in the midst of a situation where we all need to be at the top of our game. I'll invite him to work out with us, and he won't ever know I'm doing it for you." 

They spent about twenty minutes limbering up, and while Dee pulled the workout mat into the center of the floor, Blair discarded his sweatshirt, warm enough now that anything more than his T-shirt and track pants was too much. Stepping onto opposite corners of the mat, they bowed to each other, then faced off. Blair threw the first punch, a left she at first blocked, then she grabbed a hold of his arm, turning his wrist up. 

"Lobo, you want to explain this to me?" Her sensitive fingers traced the outline of the Watcher tattoo. "This is not recent," she said, one eyebrow lifted questioningly. "Joe is dead; he never said one word to me, and I've been at the bar at least once a week since I moved back to Seacouver."

For one brief, fleeting moment, Blair felt panic, then he told himself that this was Dee and she was a hell of a lot more understanding about these little miscommunication things than Jim was. "I, uh, I asked him not to tell you." Dee's other eyebrow raised. "It just didn't seem like there was any point to it. I mean, I... I made the decision to join the Watchers the day you told me you were leaving." He paused, looking at her hand still holding his wrist, and tried to breathe. "I'd been thinking about it for awhile, since that night Mulder and Scully were here. Joe talked to Mulder and me about it, and he made me an offer to join as a researcher. They really needed someone with my skills, my background and language capability, and in return I get a salary based on the amount of work I do, and unrestricted access to all the Watcher Chronicles and databases. It's worked out really well so far... except for the fact that I kind of did it to be closer to you, and then you left." He looked back up at her, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "When you told me you were leaving, it was like everything stopped, and I couldn't think, I couldn't focus, and I just forgot about it. Kind of hard to forget a brand new tattoo, but I did. I didn't remember until later that night, and then there was no point in telling you. So I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I'm telling you now, so please don't be mad at me," he finished, the last few sentences coming out in a jumbled rush.

"Oh, Lobo, I'm not mad at you, really I'm not. I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into. Being a Watcher is not all fun and games as I'm sure Joe told you." _And if he didn't, I'm gonna wring his neck,_ she thought.

Blair nodded, "He did, but he did say things were a lot better internally than they have been for a long time. And I'm really not dealing directly with anyone but him. He gives me what he needs worked on, and when I'm done, I turn it back in. Like I said, it's worked out pretty well, and--when we talk on the phone, he--he tells me what you've been up to." The tears spilled over then, and he couldn't stop them. 

Dee pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm sorry. I never dreamed I was hurting you so badly. I thought if I just went away, it would make everything all right, and instead I hurt you." She took his face in her hands, wiping away his tears. "You know I would never, ever do that on purpose."

He nodded, and said "I know you wouldn't. God, I love you so much."

Leaning her forehead against his, she replied, "I love you too, Lobo." Pulling him to her, she kissed him fiercely, breaking it off only when she felt like she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. "Oh, Lobo, we have got to get a handle on this--goddess knows this is not the time or the place for this kind of insanity."

"I know, Dee, I know." He stepped back a little, looking into her eyes. "All we need is for Jim to go all territorial on me again. It would break whatever this fragile truce is between the two of you, and probably end up getting all of us killed."

Letting go of him, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if that could keep her away from him. "You're right, Blair," she said, then her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, "but I want you so badly. I want to throw you down on this mat and fuck you 'til you scream."

Blair's eyes widened at her coarse language, but the picture she'd planted in his mind was doing interesting things to his body. He started to close the space between them, when a pleasantly accented voice behind him said, "I'd pay money to see that." 

Megan's presence on the stairs was better than a cold shower. Both Blair and Dee flushed crimson, and he stammered something about making breakfast for Jim. Snatching up his sweatshirt, he beat a hasty retreat.

Dee stood her ground, embarrassed, but still dignified. Megan was impressed. Not too many people could carry off that combination of emotions. Finally, she said, "What would you like for breakfast, Megan?"

Dee headed for the kitchen, the Aussie trailing behind her. "Hmm, one of those muffins we bought yesterday sounds good. And coffee. I'm not used to getting up this early."

"Get used to it," Dee told her, "because I really need to work with Lobo, and you're gonna be our chaperon."

Megan could only stare at the other woman's back, wondering what in the world she'd gotten herself into by agreeing to Sandy's crazy plan. Right now, a nice, quiet safe house was looking better and better.

* * *

Dee entered the loft, dropping her briefcase by the door and kicking off her shoes. She slid out of her trench-coat, and tossed it toward a chair, missing by a mile. She didn't care. The only thing she was interested in was making the pounding in her head go away. Sinking down on the sofa, she lay back gingerly, throwing her arm over her eyes. The headaches were getting worse, there was no doubt about it.

Goddess, they'd only been at it a week and already the strain was getting to her. It was like being on campaign in enemy territory. Her senses were constantly on the alert, processing more information in a few minutes than most people did in a day, and it was wearing on her. Normally, her companion would be there to help her, a natural release valve, but she had no such help, and even deep meditation techniques weren't working now, let alone she really didn't feel comfortable putting herself that far under in light of the circumstances. 

Blair knew exactly what she was going through, but she had refused his offers of assistance. In fact, right now he was across the hall, incredibly pissed at her for turning down his latest attempt to aid her. Another wave of pain rolled through her head, and she blinked back tears. Much as she wanted his help, his soothing, healing touch, she knew it would only deepen the ties between them, and she couldn't split his concentration that way. Jim needed him just as much as she did, and he came first.

Concentrating on her breathing, Dee found her center, and began to turn the pain dial slowly down, feeling the constriction in her head and neck begin to ease. A small voice inside her mind said, "This would be so much easier if you let Blair help... " No, no, she wasn't going to go there. Maybe Megan could help, the little voice persisted. She knew Blair had been talking with her, teaching her how to work with a sentinel, and she'd overhead a couple of conversations in which Megan spoke of aiding Ellison, but she had resisted Blair's attempts to get her to work with the Aussie.

It wasn't that she didn't like her, she did. She'd found the inspector to be a lot like herself, a strong, caring woman, and a fighter. She'd even gotten her to join herself and Blair in their morning workouts, which had gone a long way towards opening Megan up. They'd had Australia in common, and fencing, and had even gone a few rounds with foils. Megan was a pretty good swordswoman, and Dee was looking forward to sparring with her again. But as far as Megan as a companion went, Dee wasn't sure. 

Most of her doubts had nothing to do with Megan, and everything to do with her own fear of losing another companion. To bind herself that closely to another person again, and to watch them die... she couldn't do it, it was too painful. What was it Blair had told her about Ellison, that his life was built on fear based responses? That statement pretty much described her reactions to the idea of a new companion. She was afraid of being hurt again, and with good reason. Insanity was not something she wanted to try a second time.

The sound of the door to the loft opening broke her concentration, and someone swung a sledgehammer inside her head. She couldn't stop the moan from escaping.

Footsteps crossed the room, but she didn't have enough strength to lift her arm from over her eyes to see who it was. "Pallas?" Well, that was the last person she'd expected. "Diandra?" All she could manage was a strangled whimper. "Damn it! Sandburg! Get in here!"

Two more sets of footsteps entered the room. "Dee?" That was Lobo, his heartbeat racing. She felt him move to her side. "Dee, damn it! Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

"This bad? You mean she's had this kind of headache before?" There was no reply from Blair, but Dee guessed he must have nodded. "Sandburg! You're the guide! You're not supposed to let this happen!"

"I'm sorry, Jim. She told me she was fine. " Dee wanted to smack Ellison, all he was doing was making it worse, but even the smallest movement on her part threatened to split her head in two.

"Can you two quit arguing and help her?" Megan's voice was anxious. She felt the woman's hand close around her own, and she tried not to break her fingers as another wave of pain washed over her. "Oh, ow, bloody hell!" Megan cursed, snatching her hand back. 

"Sorry," Dee whispered. She felt Blair's hands under her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting position on the couch. She started to slide forward, and was stopped by Ellison, her forehead leaning against his shoulder. The movement had set off an orchestra of jackhammers, and she could hold the tears back no longer. Everything was a big, throbbing red haze, and she couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't speak. She could feel though, and warm hands were rubbing her shoulders with the lightest of touches, strong fingers leeching away the tension, easing the pain. 

Time passed. Hearing was the next sense to return, and she could make out Blair's low, calm voice steadying her, guiding her easily through turning down the dials. There had been some reason she'd been resisting his help, but she couldn't remember what it was now. Gradually she became aware of Ellison's solid warmth beneath her cheek, and Megan's hovering presence. "Dee?"

"Hmm?" 

"How are you doing, angel? That any better?" Blair was asking her a question.

"Tired... " she mumbled, and leaned a little closer to Jim. He made a pretty good pillow, she thought, yawning.

"Okay, we're going to try and get you upstairs." Dee yawned again. She'd have to stay awake for that; watching the three of them maneuver her nearly 6', 150 pound frame up a spiral staircase was going to be interesting. 

Despite her desire, her eyes slid closed as Ellison managed to get her across his shoulder in a fireman's carry. At Blair's sideways look, he said, "You have any better ideas?" Taking his silence as a no, Jim carried her across the studio and up the stairs, Megan and Blair following behind with all sorts of helpful advice, which he blithely ignored. Unloading his ungainly package on the bed, he stepped back, letting the other two take over.

"Hey, Jim, you remember where that white noise generator is in the loft? Think you can get it, man? Keeping everything down as much as we can is going to be a big help," Blair said, reaching for the buttons on Dee's blouse. 

"Yeah, sure, Chief," he answered, already heading back down the stairs. When he returned, he found Megan and Blair had managed to get Dee undressed and into bed. She appeared dead to the world, but looks could be deceiving. Jim knew that even asleep, a sentinel was always subliminally aware of their surroundings. 

He handed Blair the white noise generator, along with an eyeshade he sometimes used when the light in the loft kept him from sleeping. "Thanks, Jim," Blair said, setting the generator on the nightstand and turning it on. He slid the shade over her eyes, and watched her for a moment, his hand over hers. "I think it's best if we let her sleep for as long as she can. She's been running on empty for a couple days now." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"We need to talk, Chief," Jim said, his tone worried.

Blair nodded. "Someone needs to stay with Dee. If she wakes up and can't see or hear, she'll panic."

"I'll stay," Megan volunteered, taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. Jim and Blair headed downstairs, while Megan tried to get comfortable without waking Dee.

* * *

She felt smothered. It wasn't as though she couldn't breathe; she could feel the air inflating her lungs each time she drew a breath. She felt a distance, a disconnection from her surroundings. Everything was foggy and hazy where it had once been crystal clear. As she struggled against the darkness, the nothingness, she felt a touch, a hand on her shoulder, stoking her, soothing her. 

The person leaned in close; she could feel their breath puffing softly against her ear. "It's okay, Dee. Just relax. Let me go get Sandy." The reassuring pressure on her arm vanished, and she was lost in the mist, abandoned once again. Something within her, something deep and dark and primal, howled. 

The surface she was lying on shifted, and she scrambled in the opposite direction, her arms and legs tangling in some kind of cloth. Once again, she felt a touch on her arm, this time one that was intimately familiar. "Lobo?" she whispered.

"Right here, Dee. It's okay, just relax. You had a sensory overload, and we're doing the best we can to bring everything back under control. Now that you're awake, you can help us. I need you to find the dials, and turn them all down, as far as they can go," Blair said.

After a few moments concentration, she nodded. "Okay, now very slowly turn them back up to normal, which would be about a three." When she nodded again, Blair took off the blindfold. Dee blinked a couple times, then her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom. "I'm going to turn off the white noise generator now, so be prepared to turn your hearing down if you have to."

When he flipped the switch on the small box on the nightstand, it was as though he had turned back on something inside her. The fuzziness, the disconnected feeling disappeared. Finally feeling confident enough to move, she ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Wow. That thing's scary."

Blair scooted closer to her and turned on the bedside lamp. "Yeah, it can be if you don't know what it is." He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "How are you feeling? Still have a headache?"

"It's gone," she replied. "I'm sorry about this, Lobo. I thought I could handle this without freaking." Slamming her hand down on the mattress, she swore. "Damn it, I could have gotten you killed, I could have gotten Megan killed!"

Sliding his arms around her, Blair pulled her into a hug. "It's okay. That didn't happen. You did the best you could; nobody blames you."

Resting her chin on his shoulder, she sighed. "I never thought about this happening at all. It never occurred to me that I've never really worked without a full-time companion. I mean, Lydia was always there; I guess I kind of took what she did for granted."

Pulling back so he could look her in the eye, Blair said, "Well, at least you've proven one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: Jim's stuck with me whether he likes it or not." 

Dee surprised herself by actually giggling. "I trust you pointed that out to him?"

"Oh, yeah."

Leaning back against the headboard, she said, "Sorry I ruined your plan, Blair. Guess you should talk to Captain Banks about that safehouse."

"Already did. It should be ready tomorrow night, then all four of us are going to check in."

She raised an eyebrow. "All four of us?"

"Extra protection. And we can work on your senses in a controlled environment, using Jim as a control subject." He grinned at the idea of getting his sentinel to undergo more testing.

Knowing how much Ellison hated being poked and prodded by the anthropologist, she said, "He know about this?"

"He does now!" came floating up from the living area. Blair and Dee stared at each other for a moment, then burst into helpless peals of laughter.

* * *

Dee drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel of the Cherokee. This safehouse thing was a good idea, she tried to convince herself. Yep, one big, heavily guarded, no way in or out fortress. Why then, did she feel like she was heading for prison? She glanced at her passenger.

Blair was seemingly oblivious to her worries. He was poking his finger in and out of a hole in the dashboard. She sighed. "Please don't do that."

"Hmm, oh? Yeah, sorry. I still can't believe how many bullet holes there are in this thing, and it still runs. A lot tougher than the trucks Jim's had. One or two little crashes, and they were done for." He gazed out the windshield at the long line of taillights ahead of them. "Must be an accident or something. We're gonna be late."

"Well, they're not going to go anywhere without us." She eased up on the brake a little, and with a slight hesitation, the Jeep moved forward. That was funny. It never did that before. That's what she got for letting the police garage check it out before releasing it to her. Should have taken it to a real mechanic, or better yet, had Duncan take a look at it. All they needed was for the car to stall out in this traffic. 

Fortunately, it stayed running long enough for her to turn into the parking lot behind the loft thirty minutes later. "Jim's truck's here, so I guess they must be upstairs," Blair said, grabbing his backpack from the floor. "It safe to go up?"

She focused her hearing on the surrounding area, and found the lot deserted. "Yeah, it's okay." Something nagged at her though, and she checked once again, as Blair got out of the car. Dee was turning off the ignition, when she realized what it was. "RUN!" she screamed, reaching for the door handle as the Cherokee exploded in a ball of flame.

* * *

Jim Ellison hung the phone up. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath.

Megan looked up from her seat on the couch. "What is it?"

"Sandburg's cell phone is screwed up again. He just shoves it in his backpack, and then it gets turned on, and the battery runs down, or turned off, so he doesn't get his calls."

"I'm sure they're just hung up in traffic, Jim." She waved a hand at the TV. "They said there was a big accident out by the university."

"Knowing the two of them, they were in it." He reached for the phone again, intent on calling the station. 

The sound of an explosion outside reverberated through the loft. Dropping the phone, Jim clutched at his ears, the pain of the sudden noise almost driving him to his knees. Megan reacted instinctively, moving instantly to his side, her hand on his shoulder, her low voiced instructions helping him regain control. Recovering quickly, he dashed out onto the balcony and stared down at the parking lot, the sight of the flaming remains of a Jeep Cherokee sending him into a panic. "Blair!" he screamed, then he turned to race downstairs, and knocked Megan on her back. Stepping over her, he headed for the door.

"Jim!" she yelled after him. "Ellison, damn it, it could be a trap!" She had to be the voice of reason, even though she was screaming inside at the thought of Dee perishing as she hesitated. 

Flinging open the door, Ellison shot back over his shoulder, "Stay here, it's you they're after!"

Swearing, Megan picked herself up and headed for the phone to call it in.

By the time Jim reached the parking lot, a crowd was starting to gather. Pushing past the small group of curiosity seekers, he tried to approach the still burning wreckage, but the heat from the fire kept him back. In vain, he tried to peer through the smoke and the flames to see if there was anyone trapped inside the vehicle. He couldn't make anything out, and in his emotional state, he couldn't concentrate enough to bring his senses fully online. Intellectually he knew there was no way anyone could have survived. He reminded himself that Dee was immortal, and that if she was still in there, he would have to find a way to help her once her body was taken to the morgue. But Sandburg... god, Blair! He choked back a sob. 

Feeling a comforting hand on his shoulder, Ellison turned to find his superior standing behind him. "We were on the way here to pick you up when we got the call," Simon Banks said. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Jim answered him. "There was an explosion. It's Dee's Jeep-- " He couldn't go on.

"Sandburg was with her?" Simon asked, his heart breaking for his friend.

Jim could only close his eyes and nod. "They were late getting back from the university... "

"Where's Connor?"

"She's--she's upstairs, in the loft."

"Look, Jim, there's nothing you can do here right now, not until we get the fire department to put this thing out, and we can start an investigation. Go look after Connor. We can't take the chance Cristo won't go after her while we're preoccupied with this mess." He gave Jim's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Jim. Even though he got on my nerves, Sandburg was a good kid."

Jim nodded, then swallowed past the lump in his throat, and headed back inside the apartment building. Megan met him at the door to the loft, her face tear streaked. "They're gone, aren't they?" 

It was an effort to get the words out. "It looks that way, yes." He blinked back tears. He was not going to cry now, damn it. There was too much to be done. Unfortunately, he had no idea of where to begin. Megan's muffled sobs broke through his wall of grief. Tentatively he put his arms around her, letting her lean her head on his shoulder. This was where he would start, then, with taking care of the guide.

* * *

Blair hadn't hesitated at Dee's scream to run, but he'd only gotten three more steps away from the Cherokee when it exploded, the force of the blast hurling him another ten feet, debris raining down on him. He struck the pavement hard, instinctively curling into a ball to protect himself. When no further explosions seemed imminent, he got slowly to his feet, trying to piece together what had happened. Car bomb, his stunned brain managed to dredge up from somewhere. Oh, god, Dee! She'd still been in the truck!

Forcing his shaking legs to move, he circled the burning vehicle. The driver's side door hung open, flames engulfing the interior. If Dee was in there... .Something made him turn around, a small sound, a gasp or a cry. Dee was lying on the ground, nearly hidden under the back bumper of Jim's truck. "Oh, shit, Dee," he whispered, racing to her side. Carefully he turned her face toward him, and nearly threw up. Covered in blood, badly burned, her body pierced in several places by shrapnel from the bomb, Blair was amazed she was still alive, let alone conscious. "Dee, god, you should be dead-- "

Her bloody hand grasped his wrist tightly. "Can't... not yet... need to get... somewhere safe... need time... to heal... " Her voice was agonized.

Blair glanced up at the loft. Jim would be there any second; he had to have heard the explosion. "Along with everyone else in a ten block area, Sandburg," he chastised himself. Dee needed time, so he would give her time. "Sorry, Jim," he said softly, then throwing her arm across his shoulder, he hauled her to her feet, and half carried, half dragged her down the darkened alleyway, not stopping until they were several blocks from the scene. 

He found some shelter for them in the recessed doorway of an abandoned building. Easing her to the ground, he took a look around. The area was deserted, and he was pretty sure they hadn't been followed. Her moan of pain turned his attention back to her. "Dee?" he asked "Is there anything I can do?"

"No," she rasped, "just hurts... " She tried to get a grip on a jagged piece of metal protruding from her side, but she didn't have enough strength or leverage to remove it. Sagging back against the brick wall, she took several whistling breaths, then said, "Lobo... could you... "

Blair swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. He had to be strong for her. Wrapping his hand around the steel shard, he pulled hard, feeling it shift slightly, then come free, a gush of warm blood coating his fingers. Dee's eyes widened, and her chest rose and fell once more, then she was still. 

She wasn't really dead, he told himself, tears burning his eyes all the same. His hands roamed her body, sensitive fingers finding and removing as much debris as he could, knowing it would speed her healing. When he had done everything he could for her, he sat back on his heels, wrapping his arms around his legs, and resting his head on his knees. He watched her intently, amazed at the way her injuries were disappearing before his eyes. If he squinted, he thought he could actually see the small blue sparks of her Quickening energy at work.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there waiting, but finally he saw her body jerk, and heard the sharp intake of air. Her eyes snapped open, and she groaned. "Damn that hurts," Dee said softly. 

"Take it easy," Blair told her, reaching out a hand to restrain her. "There's no danger now. Take as much time as you need." Getting to his feet, he searched the area, finding what he was looking for on the wall of the building opposite them. Darting across the narrow alley, he turned on the water spigot, washing his hands and face thoroughly before sticking his mouth under the stream and gulping down the cold liquid. When he'd drunk his fill, he cupped his hands under the spout and captured some for her, carrying it carefully back to her. Kneeling beside her, Blair watched her tilt her head, her lips brushing his fingers as she took a drink, the connection between them thrumming with powerful emotion. 

He made a couple more trips, until she was no longer thirsty. Sitting down beside her in the alcove, he said, "Now what do we do?"

Dee shifted her position so that she was shoulder to shoulder with him. "How long has it been?"

"I don't know, half hour, forty-five minutes, tops. They probably know we weren't in the car by now."

"You have your phone in there?" she asked, pointing at the backpack Blair couldn't even remember bringing with him.

"Yeah... "

"Call Jim. Let's see if we can't play dead."

* * *

Jim changed his hold on Megan slightly, one hand shifting to rub her back. They'd moved from the doorway to the sofa, but Jim hadn't let go of her, and she had clung just as tightly to him, her tears wetting his shoulder. He had pushed his own grief into the background, unwilling, and a little afraid to give in to it, afraid that if he did, he would never find his way back. Dee had warned him often enough of the consequences of a guide's death, and he could now see how easy it would be to follow Blair to the spirit world.

Megan was the lucky one, he thought. She would still have Dee, if the Immortal chose to reveal her true nature to her, rather than disappearing. Funny how he had begun thinking of the two of them as partners, even though there had been no outright change in the way Dee and Megan treated each other. In fact, Megan had spent more time working with him, and Dee still showed a preference for Blair. 

That was another problem. Blair's death would hit the Champion hard, perhaps hard enough to send her back to the dark depths of insanity. He made a silent vow to his guide not to let that happen. No matter what his personal feelings were toward her, they were connected now and forever through the bond they'd each had with Blair. Closing his eyes, Jim tried to find his center, that place of utter calm and complete stillness inside himself. Having reached it, he looked for their bond, using the skill he'd absorbed from Dee when she'd showed their connection to him over a week ago. The thick gold band of energy glowed brightly, still connected to him, the other end stretching out into an amorphous darkness.

He was so surprised by the sight he jumped, disturbing Megan, who started to protest at the same time the phone rang. Leaping from the couch, Ellison snatched it up. "Blair!" he almost shouted.

"We're dead, Jim," said the familiar voice on the other end of the line before breaking into hysterical giggles.

Jim could hear Dee's voice in the background. "Give me the phone, Lobo. It's okay, it's okay." Some rustling noises were followed by her confident tones. "Ellison, you there?"

"Diandra? You're supposed to be dead." 

"Is that the best you can come up with?" she sighed. "I was dead. I'm adding car bombs to my list of ways I hate to die."

"Blair, is Blair all right?" Jim was having trouble putting his thoughts and words together coherently, especially now that Megan was hanging on his arm trying to listen in.

"Lobo's okay. He probably won't be able to move tomorrow, but he's fine. Just a little bit shaken up now that the adrenaline rush is wearing off."

Jim heard Blair say, "A little bit?"

"Okay, he's having a post-traumatic stress reaction right now, but he'll be fine. I think realizing you almost lost him did it. Listen, Ellison, Blair and I are going to disappear until the grand jury next week." 

Jim frowned. "What do you mean, disappear?"

"This has gotten way out of hand. I'm sick of being a damn target, and I don't think Lobo's heart can stand another close call like tonight. I'm taking him somewhere I can protect him."

Anger flashed through the sentinel. "That's not your decision to make, Pallas," he growled.

"There was a goddamn bomb in my Cherokee, Ellison! My truck, which had been in police custody until I picked it up this afternoon! Where in the hell do you think that bomb came from? The car bomb fairy?" she snarled back. "That safe house is a deathtrap, Detective. We walk in the door, we're as good as dead. There's no way in hell I'm going to do that. Now either you work with me on this, or we will vanish into thin air."

Jim wasn't willing to give in without a fight. "You sure Blair will go along with you?"

Dee glanced at the anthropologist huddled next to her in the small doorway, his legs pulled up to his chest, his head bowed. "Yes, he will," she said, the fury gone from her voice. "He saw what I looked like after being caught in the explosion. It could just have easily been you, or him, or Megan. No one but an Immortal could survive those kinds of injuries. Now are you going to help us out or not?"

The sentinel hesitated. "You have to let me know where you're going to be."

"Only if you don't tell anyone, and I mean -anyone- where we are. Not even your Captain."

"I'll only tell him if it's absolutely necessary," Jim promised. He could hear Diandra's resigned sigh.

"You know I don't have to tell you anything... but I trust you. It's the rest of the PD that's the problem. I'm going to take Lobo to a friend's cabin, just north of Seacouver. It's on an island in the middle of a lake up there. Very safe, very secluded, very defensible. Nothing will happen to him there."

"I know the lake you're talking about. Simon has a cabin on the west shore, about two miles up the mountain. How are you going to get there?" Jim asked.

"I called Joe; he's on his way here to pick us up right now. If you need to contact us, use Blair's cell phone, though I can't guarantee the reception once we get up in the mountains. And Ellison, I'm trusting you to use your head, and keep Megan safe."

Ellison glanced at the Aussie, who was staring at him with a quizzical look on her face. "Of course, Diandra," he answered her. "And I'll see what I can do about making sure you're officially dead for the time being."

"Thanks," she said, and clicked the phone off. Sitting back down in the doorway next to Blair, she tucked the phone back into his backpack. Running a hand lightly through his hair, she asked, "How are you doing?"

Turning his face toward her, he rested his cheek on his knee. If this were Jim sitting next to him, asking the same question, in the same situation, he would be tempted to suck it up, to say he was fine, so Jim wouldn't worry, wouldn't think he couldn't depend on him. But this was Dee, and he knew she would see right through his bullshit, not that Jim didn't, he just let him get away with it most of the time. "I--I'm scared, Dee," he finally managed. "I hurt all over, and I'm freezing."

Dee looked up at the darkening sky, and the fine mist that was beginning to fall. "It's supposed to snow tonight. Come on, Lobo, let's get a little further undercover." Getting to her feet once again, she took a quick look at the rusty padlock holding the warehouse door shut. Two swift kicks, and the door flew open. Dee poked her head inside, making sure it was safe. "Well, it doesn't have all the comforts of home, but at least it's dry, and out of the wind." Extending a hand, she helped Blair to his feet, and supported him as he limped inside.

"You weren't limping before, what happened?"

Sliding down the wall until he was seated on the concrete floor, Blair said, "I didn't notice it earlier, but I must have banged it when I hit the ground after the explosion." He winced in pain as she knelt beside him, her fingers gently probing his left knee.

"It's hot," she said, "and swollen, though it doesn't feel like anything is broken or torn, just a very bad sprain." She placed a hand on either side of his knee, and closed her eyes.

Blair's hands over hers stopped her. "Don't." Opening her eyes, she raised an eyebrow at him. "I know you must have expended a lot of energy earlier, healing yourself. Don't over extend yourself for a little sprain."

Goddess, she loved him, but sometimes his concern for her was misplaced. "I'm fine, Lobo, but you aren't going to be much use to me if you can't walk. It's too dangerous for both of us. You do see that?" Her words chastised him, but her tone was gentle.

Biting his lip, Blair nodded. Once again Dee concentrated, and Blair watched in fascination as her hands began to glow with a faint blue light. It took everything he had to hold still for her though, as the energy flowing into his leg felt like red-hot needles. The sensation only lasted a few seconds, but when she moved her hands away, he had to consciously remember to breathe, and a low moan slid out with his exhale. "Sorry, baby," she said. "It's not completely healed, but the swelling should be about gone, and you can stand on it."

She moved to sit next to him, feeling him resist as she slid her arm around his shoulders. "Hey, what's this?" she asked him, her tone slightly hurt.

Blair shivered. "I don't know," he said. "I--I'm worried about Jim, and Megan.--and us--and-- "

Pulling him closer, so that he was snug against her shoulder, she said, "Shhh, everything's going to be all right. Just close your eyes and rest. I'll take care of everything, okay?" Her hand started to rub his back, and Blair finally began to relax against her. His eyes closed, and soon he was lightly dozing.

While he slept, Dee kept watch, turning the past week's events over in her mind. They had approached it all wrong from the start, she realized, by deciding on a purely defensive strategy. After the attack on Megan, they should have taken the battle directly to Cristo, and ended it then. She sighed. But that was not the way things were done in this day and age. There were rules and regulations to adhere to, judicial channels that Ellison, Blair and Megan had to follow. Perhaps her mistake had been in going along with them. If she had followed her gut instinct and gone after Cristo on her own, then none of this would have happened.

She gazed down at the sleeping anthropologist, wondering what he would think of her if she had. Would he hate her for it, or would it just be easier for her if he did? "Oh, goddess, how did everything get so fucked up?" she whispered. When you left Cascade, her brain replied, when you left him. Looking back on her decision now, she could see it had been the same as all the times before. Things got tough, or awkward, or difficult, and she ran; only this time she had run from herself as well as love. What had she been hoping to accomplish by moving back to Seacouver? Had she been hoping her heightened senses would just go away? That would have solved a hell of a lot of problems, and she wouldn't have to open herself up to anyone new, to chose a companion. Would you have run from Blair, she asked herself, if he had been free to be that companion? She wanted to think she wouldn't have, but she couldn't be sure. It had been such a long time, and yet the wounds were as fresh as the moment Lydia died in her arms. It had been her fault; she was the Champion, she was supposed to protect the Companion. 

Blair stirred a bit in his sleep, and Dee lowered him so that his head was resting in her lap. She stroked his hair gently, wondering if for all her bravado in front of Ellison, she would really be able to keep him safe. She hadn't been able to do that for Lydia. With that thought, the pieces of her life began to fit together, to make an odd sort of sense. Fear. Everything she'd done for the past 2680 years had been done out of fear. Fear of failing, of giving herself over completely to someone, and then getting him or her killed. The idea was staggering, and knowing now was not the time or place to deal with it, Dee stuffed it in a mental box, and slammed the lid shut. Besides, she thought she heard Joe's car outside. 

"Lobo," she whispered in his ear, "someone's outside; I'm going to check on it." Fully awake at her words, Blair sat up, watching anxiously as she moved to the door, and opened it slightly, peering out into the softly falling snow. "It's okay," she said. "It's Joe." Helping Blair to his feet, she grabbed his backpack, and followed him out to Joe's van, climbing into the back seat with him.

Joe got a good look at the both of them when the interior light came on, but he held his tongue until they were both settled. "There's a blanket behind the seat," he said.

Dee grabbed it and wrapped it around Blair. "Go ahead and lie down," she told him, scooting closer to the door so he would have more room. "You need to keep your knee elevated." He did as she directed, once again resting his head in her lap, and closing his eyes.

Joe put the van into drive, and pulled away from the warehouse. "You gonna keep me in suspense much longer, Dee, or are you going to fill me in? It's not too often I get Immortals calling me to haul their ass out of the fire. You look like you've been through a war."

Dee adjusted the blanket so it fit more snugly around Blair. "Someone blew up my Cherokee, with the two of us in it." 

"Someone must be pretty pissed at you," he said.

"Not at me, at Lobo. It's a long story, Joe, but there's a drug dealer out to kill him. Can you take us to the dojo so we can pick up some things, and get cleaned up, and then to Mac's island?"

"Sure, sure, anything for you, Dee, you know that." He glanced in the mirror at them. Both of them were filthy, and reeked of smoke and gasoline. Dee's clothes were torn and singed, and covered in blood. "Anything for Blair, too. I'm becoming rather fond of him."

A weary smile crossed Dee's face. "He has that affect on people." Gazing down at him, she said softly, "I swear I won't fail you, Lobo. I swear I'll keep you safe."

Joe heard her quiet promise, and wondered what was going on between the two of them. The last time he'd spoken to Diandra, she had assured him she'd made the right decision to leave Blair. But now it looked like she was having second thoughts. He decided to just ask. "What's the deal with the two of you? I thought you said it was over."

Dee's eyes met the Watcher's in the mirror. "I... I don't know anymore, Joe. It's complicated."

"Try me. I'm a bartender, otherwise known as a professional listener." He gave her a reassuring grin.

She checked to make sure Blair was asleep before she spoke. "How much have you and Blair talked? I mean, how well do you know him?"

Joe considered her question for a moment, then said, "I don't know, pretty well I think. I know the two most important people in his life are you and Detective Ellison. And I know he still loves you. I think for the past couple months when I've spoken with him, he's lived for the end of the conversation, when he could casually say 'Have you seen Dee lately?'"

Her chest suddenly felt tight, and she blinked back tears. "I'm sorry, Lobo, I'm sorry. I fucked up all around, didn't I?" she whispered. Wiping at her eyes, she got back to the subject at hand. "Did you ever talk about his studies, his thesis?"

Joe nodded. "A little bit, yes. After he joined the Watchers, I got a hold of his master's thesis and read it, just wanting to make sure he was every bit as good as I thought, and he is. His study of people with heightened senses was very thorough, and well written. He told me he's interested in reviewing a lot of the older Chronicles, hoping to find some evidence there of Sentinels. It's too bad they no longer exist in today's society. He makes them sound as interesting as Immortals."

Dee laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, they exist all right, and they are far rarer than Immortals."

Joe turned around in his seat to look at her. "You mean you know a Sentinel? Does Blair know this?"

"Oh, yeah, Blair knows all about it. He's a Guide."

Joe returned part of his attention to the road. "If he's a Guide, then--is Detective Ellison a Sentinel?"

"Yes," she answered him, "as am I. And therein lies the crux of the problem and the reason I left Cascade. Sentinels are very territorial, especially when it comes to the guide."

The Watcher was beginning to get the picture. "Ellison had a problem with the relationship between you and Blair."

Dee nodded. "Yes, I thought my removing myself from the picture would solve everything, but as you know, it just made Blair and me miserable, and nothing was resolved. So here we are again, right back at the same place we started, and I'm afraid I'm going to screw it up all over again."

Joe shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dee. My heart breaks for you. I know how much you love him; I can see it in your face right now."

"I can't think about that now, Joe. I have to concentrate on keeping the two of us alive until Cristo goes before the grand jury next week. Then I can worry about us." Or maybe just run off to the Himalayas. The rest of the drive to Seacouver was spent in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Ellison replaced the phone slowly in its cradle, his mind whirling. Blair and Dee were alive! He felt Megan tugging at him. "Jim, damn it, what's going on? Was that them? Are Sandy and Dee okay?"

"Um, yeah, yeah, they're fine. I gotta talk to Simon."

Captain Banks chose that moment to enter the loft. "Jim, Megan, " he began, "the fire department's still working on the vehicle. It'll be awhile before we can examine it."

Jim jumped in before Banks could go any further. "Sandburg and Pallas are alive. They just called here."

The expression on Simon's face was a mixture of joy and confusion. "How is that possible?”

Shaking his head, Jim said, "They didn't give me all the details, but they wanted to let us know they were okay." He knew Simon was going to hate the next part. "They're going into hiding. Even I don't know where they are."

"You didn't try to talk them out of it? No, scratch that, Pallas is just as stubborn as you are, Jim. This had to have been her idea. Damn it!" The tall man took a cigar from his pocket and bit down on it in frustration.

"She wanted to know if we could keep it quiet about them escaping the explosion, sir, and I think that's a good idea. If Cristo thinks they're dead, he won't keep coming after them."

Simon sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I guess I can call in a few favors, make it look like they died."

Megan, who had kept silent until now, spoke up. "If I may make a suggestion, sir? No one but the three of us knows I wasn't in Dee's car also. She was supposed to have picked me up at the station when she got her car, but Jim and I left before they arrived. If Cristo thinks both Sandy and I are dead, he may slip up and we can catch him. If not, at least we'll be able to testify."

Simon gazed at the Inspector, his expression thoughtful. "A good idea, Connor, but just where are we going to put you until then? The safehouse is out, and here is too obvious. I'm sure Cristo will still be keeping an eye on Ellison, seeing if he's properly broken up over his partner's 'death'."

"I have a couple solutions for those problems, Captain," Jim said. "You still have that cabin up north of Seacouver, correct?" At Simon's nod, he continued, "I propose I take Megan up there until the trial."

"And just how are you going to keep Cristo from suspecting something, Jim?"

"I'll be dead too, sir. Despondent over the death of my partner, and two other people I was supposed to be protecting, I'll have a little 'accident' while cleaning my gun." The expression on his face was deadly serious.

Simon chewed the end of his cigar, knowing that this was the best plan they could come up with, but the vision of his friend eating his gun after Sandburg's death hit very close to home. "All right, Jim, I'll see what I can arrange. I'll put Rafe and Brown on the investigation, and Joel on getting the two of you out of here without being seen. I'm going to try to keep this in Major Crimes, with people we know we can trust. I won't, however, let them know Sandburg and Pallas are alive. They'll have to know about you, though."

Jim nodded in agreement. "Thanks, Simon, and I know Pallas and Sandburg appreciate your help also." He glanced at Megan. "I guess we should start packing for a week in the woods." 

"I'll get my stuff together," she said, and headed across the hall to Dee's apartment.

Simon watched her go, then said, "Are you sure the two of you are going to be all right? Nothing against Connor, but, and I hate to say it, I feel better when Sandburg is the one watching your back."

"I wish things were different, too, Simon, but I think she'll do fine. Chief's been working with her, and she has the raw talent for being a guide; we worked okay together on that robbery last week." 

Despite his words, Simon could see Jim was worried. "How's she holding up?" he asked.

A small smile touched Jim's lips. "She's tougher than she looks, sir. Diandra's been working with her, working on getting her confidence in herself back, and I think things will be better now that Connor's chosen to take charge of her own defense."

"What about Sandburg and Pallas? Should I be worrying about them? This Sentinel/Guide stuff gives me a headache, and now that there are two of you... "

Jim felt a small knot of envy form in his stomach at the thought of Diandra and Blair together on a secluded island. "I don't think you have anything to worry about there, Simon. I'm sure the two of them are welcoming the time alone."

If Simon didn't know better, he could have sworn the detective's words held a trace of bitterness.

* * *

Blair followed Dee into the bedroom of her apartment over MacLeod's dojo. Joe had dropped them off, promising he'd be back in an hour or so, giving them a chance to get cleaned up and packed, while he picked up some supplies for them. Sitting down gingerly on the bed, he dropped his backpack to the floor, and rubbed his eyes wearily. Despite the sleep he'd gotten in Joe's van, he was exhausted.

"You want the shower first, Lobo?" Dee called from the bathroom. She stuck her head around the corner of the door.

Blair shook his head. "You go ahead, you need it more than I do."

She gave him a wry grin. "Thanks, I think."

"You know that wasn't what I meant. "

She wandered the rest of the way into the bedroom, and dropped to her knees beside him. "You sure you're okay with this?" she asked.

"With the shower? Yeah, you can go first." Seeing her raised eyebrow, he said, "Oh, you mean with us running away and leaving Jim and Megan to fend for themselves? I understand it, but I don't have to like it. I'd feel better if we were all together."

Dee took hold of his hand. "I'd feel better if Cristo were dead, and this was all over. Have a little faith in Ellison, Lobo. He will keep Megan safe, and he knows I won't let anything happen to you." She reached up to stroke his cheek, and he pressed his face against her hand, finding solace in the intimate contact.

"I wish I knew what his plan was-- " he started to say, when his backpack trilled. Snagging his phone out of the front pocket, he said, "Hello."

"Chief, it's Jim. I just wanted to let you know everything is taken care of here. Simon is going to issue a press release in about an hour, stating that you and Dee were killed when her SUV exploded. I just don't want you to worry about the other names in the statement."

Blair shot Dee a puzzled glance. "What other names?"

"Megan was in the car with you, and I had a little accident cleaning my gun," Ellison said, failing to keep the self-satisfied tone out of his voice. "That way it'll look like all Cristo's troubles are over, and maybe he'll lay off, figuring that the grand jury will fall through without the star witnesses."

"So we're all dead. Where are the two of you going to hide out?"

"Simon's cabin is close to where Dee's taking you. Megan and I are going to head up there. That way we'll be nearby, but if Cristo suspects anything, he'll have to split his forces to get at us."

Dee nodded at Blair to show she'd heard Jim, then rose and headed for the shower. "You still there, Chief?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Dee got everything; she's gone to take a shower."

Ellison's tone softened, "How are you doing, Blair? Are you okay with this?"

The anthropologist laughed. "Man, Jim, you two are so much alike it's scary. Dee just asked me the same question. Yeah, I'm okay. I'm better now that I know what you're up to."

"You weren't hurt in the explosion? How in the world did you manage not to get killed? Not that I'm complaining, but--"

"I-- I'm just sore all over, and I sprained my knee, but other than that, I'm fine. Dee yelled at me to run just before the bomb went off; I think she sensed it somehow, but too late to stop it." He lowered his voice to a whisper, "She died, Jim. It was awful, and all I could think was 'thank god it wasn't you in the car with me'."

"Yeah, well, that's all I could think of too," Jim replied. "That was way too close, Chief. Look, they're getting ready to whisk us out of here, so if I don't talk to you before the court date, be careful, and stay safe. Take care of each other; watch her back, okay? I want to see you walk into that courtroom on Monday and blow Cristo away."

Blair managed to speak around the lump in his throat. "Sure, Jim, we'll be careful. You too, okay?"

"That's a promise, Chief." Blair cut the connection, and put the phone away, saying a silent prayer for all of them.

* * *

Megan sat huddled in the passenger seat of a borrowed Bronco, watching as Ellison skillfully maneuvered the off-road vehicle along a one-lane dirt road. The snow that had started a few minutes after the fateful phone call from Dee had increased steadily as they'd climbed further into the mountains and made driving treacherous. She was glad the Sentinel was at the wheel instead of her. She'd lived in the States for a couple years now, but had never gotten the hang of winter driving, seeing as Cascade was known more for its rain than its snow.

The past few hours had been a rollercoaster of actions and emotions. First had been the explosion, and the overwhelming grief she'd felt at the news that Sandy and Dee had perished, followed closely on its heels by the indescribable joy at the revelation they were alive. She knew from listening to Ellison's one-sided conversations with both Blair and Dee that the two of them should be dead, but weren't. She suspected there was a story there, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, at least not at the moment. But the next time she was alone with Sandy, she would get it out of him. Her lips curved up in a smile at that notion. 

A sharp gasp from Jim jolted her from her thoughts. "Ellison! What is it?" He was clutching the steering wheel tightly, every muscle in his body rigid. "Jim!" she screamed, trying to get through to him, as the truck headed for the steep drop-off at the edge of the road.

* * *

Blair crossed the wood floor of the dojo and headed out the exit, carefully negotiating the icy stairs to the alley. Dee was still upstairs packing, more weapons he suspected, and had asked him to go see if Joe had returned. Setting his bags on the ground, he peered down the narrow street, wondering if the headlights turning at the corner belonged to Joe's van. 

The hauntingly familiar sound of steel being drawn from a scabbard reached his ears, and he turned in the direction of the noise. A tall, trench-coated figure stepped from the shadows into the yellow light from the security lamp. "I am Oren Hale of the Philadelphia Hales, and I challenge you, Duncan MacLeod," he said, his voice level, and quite pleasant.

Blair stared at him, mouth open. This guy thought he was MacLeod? What drugs was he taking? After a few shocked seconds, he found his voice, "Sorry, buddy, you have the wrong guy. MacLeod's out of the country."

The lean man shrugged, and lazily brought his sword, a two-handed bastard sword, Blair noted, into a ready position. "Very well, then I shall have to make do with you."

He took a step forward and Blair automatically stepped back, casting his gaze about for a weapon. This guy thought he was immortal? How stupid could this guy be? Blair didn't have a Buzz--oh, shit, he realized, he's picking up on Dee, who at two floors up was well within Immortal radar. "Now would be a good time to make an appearance, Dee," he thought, as he moved away from Hale's first swing. 

"Caught you out without a weapon, eh little one? Too bad for you." He swung the huge blade again, and Blair darted to the side, feeling his injured knee protest. Having located nothing he could use to defend himself, Blair called upon Dee's training, ducking under the sword and landing a punch to Hale's midsection before dancing out of range. 

They circled each other, Hale wary now that he knew Blair was going to put up a fight. For his part, Blair watched for an opening, and when he saw the tip of the heavy sword lower, he went for it, stepping inside the Immortal's guard and nailing him with a right roundhouse kick to the head. Hale staggered back, and Blair moved forward to continue the attack, but the slick pavement and his weak leg were his undoing. He slipped, and as he scrambled to stay on his feet, his left leg gave out, throwing him to his knees. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see Hale poised to deliver the killing stroke. Blair's whispered, "I'm sorry, Jim," echoed in the snowy silence.

* * *

Grabbing the steering wheel with both hands, Megan yanked it to the right as she struggled to reach the brake. The Bronco fishtailed on the snow-covered trail, but headed away from the cliff, straight toward a line of trees. Jamming the transmission into neutral, she fought for control, sprawled awkwardly across the still unresponsive Jim. Missing a head-on collision with a Ponderosa pine by inches, the truck sideswiped a couple more, and came to a stop well off to the side of the road. Putting it into park, she turned to Jim, shaking him and calling his name. His eyes were open, but they were fixed on some point she couldn't see, far off in the distance, and deep inside him. If this was a zone out, it was like none she'd ever witnessed before. Still, maybe the tried and true method would bring him out of it. She began to rub his hand, speaking to him softly.

* * *

Time slowed, seconds becoming minutes, and minutes hours. Blair felt the cold, wet snow soaking through the knees of his jeans as clearly as he saw the blade descending toward him. Footsteps pounded on wood planks, and he looked up past Hale's silhouette to the large black mare leaping over the stair rail. Her body twisted in the air, and shifted into Dee, her katana flashing in the faint light, sliding through flesh and bone and sinew as though it were paper. 

She landed on her feet facing the other Immortal as dead fingers released their grip on his sword. Her free hand catching at his lapel kept his body from falling on Blair as Hale's head dropped to the ground, rolling to a stop a few feet away. 

Time sped up to normal as Dee let go of the dead man, yelling, "Lobo, run!" A white swirling mist surrounded them, rising from Hale's body. Blair tried to stand, but his knee gave out again, Dee catching him as he fell. Energy crackled, and a bolt of lightning struck her from behind. Power surged through every cell of her body, down her arms, out through her hands, and into Blair. Never in his worst nightmares had he ever imagined such pain. A scream from the depths of his soul spilled from his lips, joining her voice in an agonized duet.

* * *

Megan continued to talk to Jim, begging him, pleading him to come back to her. Sandy would never forgive her if anything happened to Jim. "Come on, Jim, snap out of it!" she growled in frustration. "You wouldn't do this to Sandy!"

At the mention of his partner's name, Jim twitched, and Megan felt relief flood through her, until the twitch turned into violent convulsions. Throwing herself over him, she tried to keep him from injuring himself.

* * *

The Quickening lasted an eternity, lighting up the alley as bright as day. Bolts of energy continued to pour from the dead Immortal, bouncing off the walls, the stairs, the dumpster, shorting out the street lamps and always, always grounding to the Champion and Guide caught in their deadly grasp. 

It finally ended, leaving behind broken glass and a small fire burning in a puddle of oil. Diandra slumped to the ground, her arms still wrapped around the anthropologist, her body humming with power. Inhaling a deep breath of ozone charged air, her head cleared. "Lobo?" she whispered, her throat raw from screaming. Turning him on his back, she listened for his heartbeat, finding it racing. Brushing her hand across his face, she found his skin cold and clammy, and no warm breath caressed her fingers. Goddess, he wasn't breathing!

* * *

Jim's convulsions went on forever, or so it seemed to Megan, though in reality, she knew the episode couldn't have lasted for much more than a minute. When he collapsed against her, his body limp, her fingers went immediately to the pulse at his throat, finding it strong, but very fast. Leaning over, she listened for the sound of air rushing into his lungs, but there was none. Bloody hell, he wasn't breathing!

Quickly realizing that there was not enough room in the cab to work on him, Megan kicked open the passenger side door of the truck. Unhooking his seatbelt, she dragged him out of the Bronco into the snow, praying she remembered her first aid.

* * *

Laying Blair carefully down on the cold cement, Diandra tilted his head back, making sure his airway was open. Pinching his nose shut, she leaned over him breathing into his mouth, then waited for a count of five before breathing for him again. "Come on, Lobo, don't do this to me," she pleaded, feeling hot tears trickling down her cheeks. Another breath from her filled his lungs. "Damn it, Blair, Jim is going to kill me! Breath goddamn you!" 

She was leaning over for the fourth time when he coughed, then inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering open, his expression frightened. Gathering him up in her arms, Dee rocked him, sheltering him, hearing his thundering heartbeat slowly calm. "It's okay, Lobo," she whispered, "it's going to be okay." She felt his tears wetting her neck, and she let him sob against her shoulder. Kneeling with him in the darkness, she held him close as the snow continued to fall down on them like soft white feathers from the black sky.

* * *

Megan bent over Ellison, her warm breath filling his lungs a third time. She sat back on her calves, counting the beat of his pulse under her fingertips, then leaned forward again. One more breath, and this time he convulsed as his eyes snapped open and he sucked in a lungful of air on his own. He lay there in the snow bank, shaking, as she gripped his hand tightly. "Jim, can you hear me?" she asked.

He coughed again, then with her help slowly sat up. "Yeah, I can hear you," he said. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. You kind of gasped, and I looked over at you, and it was like you were zoned, but you weren't. The car started to go off the road, so I managed to get it stopped, and then you went into some kind of seizure."

At her words, Jim began to remember bits and pieces. There was cold, darkness and fear and pain shooting through his leg. His guide's voice whispered he was sorry, and then there was agony, every nerve ending frying. Tortured screams were followed by the most incredible wave of pleasure, and then nothing. Nothing at all until he'd heard Megan calling to him. "Blair," he said softly, "something's happened to Blair."

* * *

Blair continued to shiver against Dee, and she realized he was in shock. Adjusting her grip on him, she got to her feet, the guide cradled against her chest. She turned toward the stairs, intending to go back inside, when Joe's van slid to a halt behind her. The Watcher pushed open the side door for her, and said, "Get him in here, Dee." Sliding him into the seat, she wrapped the blanket tightly around him, and closed the door.

Methodically, she took care of business, tossing their belongings into the back of the van, up against the seat. She locked up the dojo, pocketed the keys, then turned to Hale's remains. Dragging his headless body around to the rear of the van, she hoisted it inside, and followed it with his head and his sword. Slamming the double doors shut, Dee walked around to the passenger side. She climbed in the back seat next to Blair, and almost had her door closed when he lunged across the seat, sprawling over her lap as he just managed to hang his head outside before he vomited. 

When he finally sat back up, Joe handed him a bottle of water. Squirting some in his mouth, he swished it around, then leaned over Dee again to spit. "Ohhhh, god," he moaned as he sat up again. "I feel awful." Turning to face Dee, he caught sight of Hale's body, and his stomach lurched again, but he was able to keep from being sick. "I can't believe he was going to kill me," he whispered. 

Dee shut the van door, and gestured for Joe to drive. "Take us down by the docks. I need to get rid of him."

Joe put the vehicle into gear as Blair leaned forward, putting his head between his knees. "I can't believe you killed him... " 

Dee rested her hand on his back comfortingly, and felt him flinch away from her. Slowly she placed her hand back in her lap, her world turning upside down.

* * *

"Are you sure you can stand?" Megan asked Jim as she helped him to his feet. 

He was a little unsteady, but quickly regained his balance. He took a short walk around the Bronco, inspecting the damage. Most of it was superficial, but there was no way they were going to get it back on the road without a tow truck. Climbing in the still open passenger door, Jim shut the ignition off and took the keys. Tossing Megan's pack out to her, he shouldered his own, and shut the door.

As an afterthought, he pulled out his cell phone, and switched it on. Diandra had been right; there was no reception, at least under the trees. Punching it off, he put it away, forcing himself to concentrate on getting them the rest of the way to the cabin, and pushing his fears for Blair to the back of his mind. He had to depend on Dee's ability to keep him safe. "Come on," he said. "I think it's about a half mile to Simon's place." 

Stepping out onto the faint outline of the road, he began to break a trail, Megan following silently behind.

* * *

Joe had driven to the warehouse section of Seacouver's piers, and stopped outside an abandoned building. Dee hopped out to scout the area, her gaze lingering for a long moment on Blair before she shut the van door. 

Once she was gone, Joe turned around in his seat, regarding the young Watcher thoughtfully. Blair was huddled under the blanket, his feet up on the seat, his arms curled around his legs, the expression on his face one of pure misery. "Blair," Joe said quietly, "if you won't talk to Dee about what happened, talk to me."

Blair shook his head. "I can't, Joe. I don't know how to describe what I'm feeling. I guess I'm just mostly numb." He glanced quickly at the body in the back. "I saw part of Dee's fight with Kendall, and that's what it was, a duel, a test between the two of them to see who was the best. At least Kendall had a chance, Hale never knew she was coming." He leaned his forehead against his knees, and when he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "She executed him because of me... "

The older man's hand tangled in the guide's hair, pulling his head up so he was looking at him. "Listen to me, Blair. Don't you dare, don't you dare put the blame for this on yourself, or on Dee. Hale's the one who went hunting tonight; all she did was protect you." Tears glistened in Blair's eyes, and Joe softened his tone. "You've been through a horrible experience tonight, one no other Watcher in the world has been through. For all the Immortal battles we've observed, no other mortal Watcher has ever experienced a Quickening. There's nothing I can say or do to help you deal with that, though god knows I wish I could. But don't turn your back on the one person who can help you, who went through the same thing you did tonight."

Blair shook his head, feeling the hold Joe had on him relax into a caress. "I don't know, Joe. I'm just so shook up, so scared--"

"Then let her help you, don't shut Dee out. She loves you for christ's sake. If she could take away everything you're feeling, if she could turn back the clock and make everything as it was, she would. Someone like her comes along once in a lifetime, Blair. You are incredibly lucky to have a second chance with her. Don't blow it." He turned to stare out the windshield at the still falling snow, letting the younger man consider his words.

Blair leaned his head on his knees again, feeling tears beginning to slide down his face, and this time he didn't try to stop them. "Jim," he thought, "I wish you were here to tell me what to do."

* * *

An hour later the weary sentinel and fledgling guide trudged through the last of the underbrush into a small clearing. Looming in the center of the open space was the dark shadow of what Megan hoped was Simon's cabin.

Climbing the three stairs to the enclosed porch, Jim felt above the door jam and produced a key. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside, flipping the light switch. To his relief, the lights came on. A power failure was not something he wanted to deal with after what they had already been through. 

Setting his pack down, Jim headed to the fireplace, using the well-stocked woodbin to get a fire going. As the room warmed up, both Jim and Megan shed their outer garments. While she checked out the cabin, Jim once again pulled out his phone, finding that they were now far enough above the treeline for him to get a signal, albeit a weak one. Punching in Sandburg's speed dial, Jim paced the small living room while the call went through. When the phone was finally answered, the voice on the other end was unfamiliar.

"Who is this?" Ellison asked, his internal alarm going off.

"Joe Dawson. Is this Detective Ellison?"

"Yes, where's Sandburg?"

"He's right here, Detective, just give him a second."

There was the sound of movement, and the phone changing hands. "Jim?" Blair's voice was strained.

"Chief? What is it? What happened? Don't tell me nothing, because I felt whatever it was."

"I'm okay, Jim, really I am," Blair replied, though Ellison clearly hear the tremor in his voice. "I just--I can't explain over the phone, not really. I got caught in a Quickening, but I'm fine, Dee's fine, we're all fine here, really. We're just going to be later getting to MacLeod's than we thought. We had to make an extra stop."

Caught in a Quickening? How was that possible--though it certainly explained what he'd gone through, if he was to believe Dee's description of one. Jim was puzzled by his last comment. "An extra stop? Chief, what could be more important than getting you to safety?"

He heard his guide's heartrate pick up. "We had to, um, dispose of some extra baggage. Look, Jim, Dee's coming back, and we need to get going. If I can, I'll call you in the morning, fill you in on everything, okay?"

"Okay, Chief." Jim cut the connection, wondering what in the hell had happened to them. No matter how hard Blair had been trying to hide it, he knew it had been something traumatic. For the millionth time that night, he wished they were together, and he sent a prayer to whatever deity watched over guides and sentinels, champions and companions, to keep all of them safe.

* * *

Blair watched Dee approach the van, his mind turning over what Jim had said. He had felt the Quickening? Like he had felt Blair's emotional distress a week ago at the police station? Jim had never shown that kind of empathy before. Before what? What had changed? He looked up as Dee opened the back door of the van. Dee, that was the change, Dee was back in their lives. 

With a minimum of effort, she grabbed Hale's body and slung it over her shoulders, heading off into the darkness. She returned a few moments later for his head and the can of paint thinner that had been sitting in a box in the back of the van along with some painting supplies. As she walked away again, Blair asked Joe, "I thought she was just going to dump him here. What is she doing?"

Joe turned round in his seat again. "Immortals decompose more rapidly than mortals. It has something to do with losing their Quickening. A couple of days out in the elements, and there's no trace left. The only thing that hampers that is cold. If she just left him in a dumpster, he might be found. She's going to burn him."

Closing his eyes, Blair ran both hands through his hair. "I'm really, really sorry I asked." He felt Joe's firm grip on his shoulder.

"You haven't really talked about this have you?"

Blair shook his head. "No, not about the details. She told me what she was, and about the Game, and I--I accepted that and then she left. But that was all in the abstract, kind of like the Chronicles. When I start thinking of all those Immortals as living, breathing people, it's overwhelming."

"Blair, she's not any different than you are. She has the same thoughts, the same feelings, the same urges."

"She kills people... " he whispered.

"Not for sport, Blair, not for pleasure. She kills only to survive, and to protect her family. You realize that's what you and Jim, and Dana and Mulder, and your friend Megan are to her, don't you? You are her family."

"Her tribe... " he said softly.

"Her tribe, if you will. That instinct to protect is deeply ingrained in her. You've read her Chronicle, you know her, you know she takes her responsibilities seriously."

"She has to," he murmured, "it's in her genetic code."

Dee returned before Joe could ask what he meant by that. She hesitated by the back door for a moment, then climbed into the front with Joe. Blair felt his stomach knot. He knew it was stupid, but for some reason it hurt that she had chosen not to join him in the back seat again. Maybe she just wanted to give him some extra room, since it would be a long, slow drive to the cabin in the still falling snow. Yeah, right. He knew a brush-off when he saw it. He laid down on the seat, and pulled the blanket up to his chin, trying not to think about how much his knee hurt, how much he missed Jim, and how much he wanted the comforting warmth of Dee's arms around him. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep.

He must have dozed off, because when he awoke, he could hear Joe and Dee speaking in hushed tones. Joe was talking about what happened in the alley. "I turned the corner, and saw this guy with a sword confronting Blair. I had no idea what was going on, and then they were fighting." Blair could hear the awe in the Watcher's voice. "I can't believe Blair went after him like that. He had no weapon, nothing, and yet he stood his ground. Hell, from what I saw, he would have had him, except he slipped. I wanted to help then, but there was nothing I could do. I never would have reached them in time to stop him from being killed. And then you came out of nowhere, like some kind of avatar. How did you know he was in trouble?"

Dee sighed. "I felt Hale's buzz, and then Lo--Blair's fear, and I went running." She shook her head. "There was nothing else I could have done. I didn't want to kill him, but there was no other way to stop Hale from completing that blow. I shouldn't have sent Blair downstairs alone. I'm supposed to be protecting him, not sending him out to be slaughtered!"

"Dee, you couldn't have known an Immortal would go after him." Joe glanced at her quickly, his gaze curious. "Unless, of course, he's one of you. You haven't been holding out on me, have you? Blair's not Immortal, is he?"

She rubbed her temples with her fingertips before answering him. "No, no, of course not, Joe. But he does have a buzz. It's faint, but there. I can sense it, and other Immortals can too, or at least Methos can." Blair stifled a surprised gasp. This was news to him!

"He's not a pre-immortal?" Joe asked 

"No. I think it has to do with his being a Guide. I've felt it in others who weren't immortal; they have a stronger life force than normal, and to me, at least, it is similar to a buzz. Most of the people I've sensed with it were more closely in touch with the spirit world than others. People like shamans, and spiritualists, and sentinels and guides." Since when did Joe know about him being a Guide? What had she been telling him?

Joe seemed satisfied with that answer, and changed the subject slightly. "So did he actually share the Quickening with you?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I haven't really had a chance to ask him." She shifted in her seat to gaze at Blair. "I shouldn't have grabbed him. Maybe then he wouldn't have felt what I felt. Hell, I don't know, maybe he would have been hurt worse if I hadn't been filtering the Quickening energy. Or maybe he wouldn't have felt anything at all if we weren't bound."

Joe looked at her again. "What do you mean by 'bound'?"

Diandra sighed. "It's difficult to explain, Joe. I bound our life forces, our Quickenings if you will, together when we were searching for Ellison, when Kendall had him. It's what lets me know when he's in trouble, or upset. There are times I regret that decision. I did it because it was necessary at the time, and because I thought we would be together. Now I don't know if that will ever happen." The pain in her voice cut deep into Blair, and he clasped his hand over his mouth to keep from making a noise that would give him away.

Joe was quiet for a long time, then he said, "So what are you going to do when this is all over, when Blair has testified, and is no longer in danger?"

When she answered, Dee's voice was weary. "I don't know, Joe, I don't know. I was supposed to die in that car bomb explosion, and right now, being dead sounds pretty good. I can just pack up and leave and start over somewhere else. Preferably somewhere secluded, where nothing ever happens, and there are no Blairs to turn my life upside down. Maybe I'll move back to Australia, back to the Outback. Or find a deserted island and spend my time lying on the beach."

"I'll miss you," Joe said simply.

"I'll miss you too, Joe. You've been a good friend." She reached across the small space between them, and gave his arm a squeeze. 

They fell silent then, and Blair was left alone with his thoughts, and his mixed up, jumbled emotions. Dee was going to leave, really leave this time, after she'd promised, she'd sworn that they would try to make things work between them. He couldn't believe she would break that promise, and yet he could understand it. Who had he been to think he had anything to offer her? She probably found most of the world's population incredibly boring just on general principles. He tried very hard to dredge up some anger, some rage at what she was planning, but all he could manage was an incredible sadness and a horrible sense of loss. He pulled the blanket closer around him, and tried to hold back his tears.


	5. Chapter 5

Megan padded quietly from the bedroom into the kitchen. Jim stood at the stove, stirring a pot of soup, a contemplative expression on his face. "Thinking about Sandy?" she asked, moving to stand beside him.

"Yeah, he's been through a hell of a lot today, and I wasn't there to protect him." Jim looked at her a little strangely.

Realizing he was wondering about her overly large sweats, she said, "They're Dee's. I just grabbed the first thing on top of the clean laundry... "

Jim gave her a grin. "Like Sandburg grabs my clean shirts."

Flushing, the Aussie turned away to search the cupboards for a couple mugs. "So were you able to get a hold of them?" she asked.

"Yeah, I talked to Blair. He said they were going to be late getting to the island." Jim poured the soup carefully into the mugs, and handed one to Megan. Taking the other one, he headed for the living room, and sat down on the sofa. 

Megan followed him, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, propping her stocking feet on the coffee table and wiggling her toes in the warmth from the fireplace. "They're going to be late because of what happened? I mean, I gather that little episode in the truck was connected to Sandy, wasn't it?"

Jim took a small sip of the hot liquid before he answered, wondering how much to tell her. Megan wasn't stupid, and he knew she must have put a lot of what she had observed over the past week of living with Dee into some kind of theory. Besides, Blair had said she had the ability to be a guide, and most of this was stuff she needed to know. He sighed. He had hoped that Sandburg would be the one to tell her, though; he wasn't as good at teaching as his partner. "Yeah, something happened to Blair, and it was traumatic enough that it came through our connection." He glanced at her, pleased to find her hanging on his words, instead of silently laughing.

"Sandy's kind of explained the sentinel/guide bond to me. He said it's like a psychic link between the two of you, not telepathy, but empathy. When one is hurt or in trouble, the other can sense it, if he's listening."

Jim nodded. "I think that explains it pretty well."

"Sandy's okay, isn't he?" Megan asked.

"Yeah, he told me he was fine, but--there's something else going on, and I got the feeling it has to do with Diandra."

A very nasty thought crossed Megan's mind, and she gave voice to it. "You don't suppose Dee was the one that hurt Sandy, do you?"

The sentinel shook his head vehemently. "I can tell you for a fact that didn't happen. She would never harm him. I think it was just an accident; he was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Megan was silent for few minutes, trying to decide how to approach the next subject. Finally she said, "Did Blair ever tell you how they escaped the car bomb this afternoon?"

Jim took another drink, and wondered how much of Diandra's story was his to tell. If she hadn't confided in the other woman about her immortality, she must have had a reason, or maybe she thought it wasn't necessary. She hadn't told him or Blair about it until circumstances forced her to. Jim finally said, "Blair told me he was out of the car when it exploded."

"But Dee wasn't. She was hurt, wasn't she?"

Jim nodded, and the Aussie's eyes lit up triumphantly. "She healed herself, didn't she? I knew she could. If she could heal me, then by extension, she ought to be able to heal herself."

Ellison stared at her, a little in shock. "Just how much do you know about her... abilities?" he asked.

Megan set her mug down on the coffee table, and bounced excitedly on the sofa cushion, a move that reminded Jim of Sandburg. "I knew she could heal other people, because she healed me after I was attacked. I figured out she could heal herself after we were shot at in the parking garage. When we went back to the loft, she took a shower right away and changed her clothes. I found her bloodstained shirt later in the trash, and I... sort of peeked when she got undressed for bed. There wasn't a mark on her." She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, her expression one of smug satisfaction.

"That doesn't bother you?" he asked.

Megan shook her head. "Hey, I've already accepted the idea of people with heightened senses. What's a little psychic healing among friends? I know enough to keep my mouth shut, especially if she chooses me to be her partner."

Jim swallowed the last of his soup, then said, "What do you mean, chooses? I didn't choose Sandburg, he kind of forced himself on me."

The Aussie met his eyes for a moment, then suddenly became interested in her fingernails. Finally, she said, "Do you ever have visions, Jim?"

Sensing she was talking about spirit guide visions, he said, "Yes, a few times. I've learned the hard way not to ignore them. That's what got Blair killed by Alex Barnes." He felt her hand grip his arm reassuringly as his voice stumbled over the evil sentinel's name. "I've taken them pretty seriously from that point on. You've been having visions?"

Megan nodded. "More like dreams really. I can't yet reach that state of complete relaxation and calm that will let me have them while awake. But I've dreamed of an osprey, a black mare, and a silver wolf. I've figured out that I'm the osprey, Dee's the mare, and Sandy is the wolf?" Jim nodded, and she continued. "But there's one I can't figure out. The only real person in my dreams is this red-haired woman... warrior, I guess is all I can call her. Her spirit guide is the red falcon. She's the only one who talks to me, and she's been teaching me how to be a guide, only she doesn't call herself that. She calls herself the Companion, and she told me that Dee has to choose me as her guide, but she's never really said how that's supposed to happen. Do you know who she is, Jim? Have you ever seen her?"

Ellison let the breath he was holding out slowly. "No, I've never seen her, but Sandburg has. He told me he had a dream in which she helped him make a choice to learn to fight, so he could protect my back. He also said she helped him find me when Kendall had me. He said she was the spirit of Dee's dead guide." 

Megan's hand flew to cover her mouth as she gasped, her mind reeling. Dee's guide was teaching her how to take her place. In a way she had already been chosen... She felt Jim's arm going around her shaking shoulders, pulling her close. 

"It's okay, Megan," he told her gently. "You are not going to go through this alone. I know how terrifying the idea of that kind of responsibility can be, but I'll help you as much as I can, and so will Blair. And I'm sure Dee will choose you; Blair says you have the talent to be a very good guide." He could hear her heart pounding, and felt warm tears on his neck. It had been a long day for both of them, and would probably be another long one tomorrow. "Come on, Connor," he said, getting them both to their feet. "Let's get you to bed."

* * *

Blair must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew, Dee was shaking him gently. "Come on, L--Blair, we're here." 

Yawning, he sat up slowly, every muscle screaming. "Oh, god, that was a mistake," he said.

"You hurt, huh?" He nodded. "Sorry, there's not much I can do for aches and pains. How's your knee, you need me to re-wrap it?"

Blair flexed it a couple times, then shook his head. "I should be okay if I don't have to walk too far."

"Not too far," she said, giving him a grin, "just to the canoe."

Getting out of the van, he could see a canoe already packed with their gear halfway in the water of the lake. Snow was still falling lightly, and clouds hid the light of an almost full moon. He could barely make out the where the beach ended and the water began, let alone the island they were supposed to be heading for. He was very glad Dee knew where she was going.

"Go ahead and get in, I'll just be a minute." She turned to give Joe a hug and a kiss. "Thanks for all your help. I owe you several now."

Joe smiled at her. "I'll be thinking of ways to collect, and most of them have to do with you singing at the bar."

"That I can do," she replied. Turning her back on him, she walked over the to canoe, and pushed it the rest of the way into the water, leaping into the stern and picking up a paddle as it began to float.

They headed out onto the lake, and soon the shore was no longer visible to Blair. He had grabbed a paddle also, and did the best he could to help her, even though his muscles protested every stroke. Kneeling in the small aluminum canoe was making his injured knee throb, but soon it didn't matter; the cold temperature of the lake leeching through the metal quickly made both his legs numb. After about half an hour, Dee announced they were almost there, but Blair didn't see the island until the bow of the canoe stuck the beach. 

"Stay put, Blair," she told him, jumping out of the boat into the thigh deep water, and dragging it ashore. Giving him a hand out of the canoe, she held onto him as he tried to work the pins and needles out of his legs. Grabbing as much of their stuff as she could carry, and still help Blair, she led him through the underbrush, and up a slight hill to a rough-hewn log cabin. Opening the door, she leaned him against the wall, and told him not to move. 

He could hear her moving around in the room, then a match was struck and a lamp lit, its soft yellow glow illuminating the large room. Dee was already putting a second match to the wood laid in the fireplace. The dry tinder caught quickly and the room began to warm up. She glanced up at him still standing next to the doorway and smiled. "It's okay to move now. I just didn't want you walking into anything until I had a light lit. Get changed out of those wet clothes, and I'll be back in a minute with the rest of the supplies."

Blair nodded, and did as he was told, pulling some sweats out of the clothes she'd borrowed from Duncan's closet for him. He'd managed the sweatshirt okay, but was having trouble getting his jeans down over his re-injured knee when she returned. Seeing his predicament, she pushed him down on the couch and worked them slowly off. Unwrapping the Ace bandage she'd put on it earlier, she probed it gently as Blair bit his lip to keep from crying out. Shaking her head, she made a disgusted noise with her mouth.

"I take it that's not a good sign," he said.

"What did you do to it, L--Blair? It's worse than it was before. There's some muscle tearing and some cartilage damage now. Fortunately, it's nothing I can't fix." She waggled her fingers at him. "Hold on to something," she warned, "and feel free to scream as loud as you want."

He grabbed hold of the back of the couch, noting that was about the fourth time she'd started to call him "Lobo" and caught herself. He was going to ask her about it, when his world was reduced to the inferno raging inside his knee. He didn't quite scream, and he managed to stay seated on the sofa, but he did put forth a string of profanity that caused Dee to raise an eyebrow. 

The pain slowly faded, and was replaced by the exquisite sensation of her hands tenderly massaging his thigh and calf. Opening his eyes, he watched her work, the trace of a smile on her lips. "I think you'll live, though that's the first time I've ever been called the bastard daughter of a three-legged demon dog in Sumatran," she finally said. Giving his thigh a light slap, she got to her feet from her kneeling position. "You hungry?"

When was the last time he'd ate? Lunch, maybe. He remembered a salad consumed in Rainier's student union a lifetime ago. "Yeah, I could eat." 

"Good, because you're cooking." She headed into the kitchen and began to lay wood in the wood-burning stove. Blair followed her, grumbling good-naturedly. He quickly found the pots and pans, and figured out how to use the hand pump on the sink to draw water. Grabbing a can of stew Joe had included in their provisions, he opened it, and dumped it into the pot, then set a kettle on a second burner to boil water for tea. Turning round to ask Dee a question, he found she'd disappeared. Sliding the food off the burner, he went to look for her.

There weren't too many places she could be. A quick check of the cabin turned up one bedroom, and what he optimistically labeled a washroom. A dull thunking noise drew him to the front door, and opening it, he found her standing in the snow, splitting logs with a long-handled ax. "Dee," he asked, "what are you doing? There's plenty of wood already inside."

She glanced up at him, but showed no sign of stopping her chore. "I need the exercise," she told him, and he suddenly remembered a conversation they'd had as they'd climbed a cliff in the dark.

"The Quickening," he said softly. 

"Yes," she answered him, "paddling a canoe, hauling Hale's body around, and healing you weren't enough. I feel like I've had about 12 pots of coffee, and the caffeine is coming out of my pores." She set another log up on the tree stump and swung the ax, cleaving it neatly in two.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

She sighed exasperatedly. "No, just go inside, eat something and go to bed. I'll be fine, Sandburg." Setting the ax down, she reached for another log.

Everything Blair had been through for the day, week, and months before exploded inside him at her Jim-like comment. He was off the porch like a shot, tackling her around the waist and dumping her on her back in the snow. Her startled blue eyes stared up at him as he hissed fiercely, "My name is not Sandburg, and it is not Blair! I'm Lobo! Your Lobo... " His voice trailed off as he raised his hand to touch her cheek and watched her flinch away. 

Blair remembered his actions in the warehouse after the explosion and then again in the van after she'd killed Hale, when he had done the same thing, had refused her offer of comfort, of closeness. Suddenly her conversation with Joe became crystal clear to him. She thought he couldn't handle what she was, what she had to do to survive. "Oh, Dee," he whispered, "shit, Dee, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... " He moved back, releasing her. 

She sat up, the expression on her face unreadable. "Go inside, Blair," she said, her voice deadly quiet.

He shook his head, the loose strands of his hair flying. Grabbing her hand in both of his, he said, "No, damn it, I am not going to let this happen to us. I am not going to hurt you this way. I'm sorry I let you believe I was having doubts, that I was afraid of you, of what you are. That couldn't be any farther from the truth. I love you." Seeing she was not convinced, he tried again. "Look at me, Dee, **look** at me. You'll know I'm telling you the truth." 

Dee closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, Blair could feel her power stripping him bare, peeling away the layers he'd created to protect himself from the sometimes cruel reality of his world, reading what was written in his heart, in his soul. A soft little "Oh" escaped her lips, then she flung herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around him as she buried her face in his hair. "Oh, goddess," she breathed, "I don't deserve you, Lobo. Nothing I have ever done is worthy of this kind of reward... "

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Blair cupped her cheek in his hand, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. "You love me," he told her softly. "That's worthy enough." Leaning forward, he kissed her tenderly, almost chastely, unsure of how far she wanted to take it at this point in time. "Come on back inside," he coaxed, getting to his feet, pulling her up with him. "We're just getting cold and wet all over again out here." She followed him into the cabin, still holding his hand, waiting patiently while they detoured to the kitchen to take the screaming kettle off the stove. 

"Dinner?" he asked.

"Later," she replied, leading him into the bedroom. She paused at the end of the bed, feeling his arms go around her waist. Tilting her head down, she kissed him, and he returned it eagerly, his nimble fingers pulling her flannel shirt out of her jeans followed by her T-shirt. She wriggled against him as his hands slid up her sides, breaking the kiss long enough to mutter, "Your hands are like ice, Lobo."

"What do you expect?" he asked with a grin. "We've been out in the snow. I know just how to warm them up, though." His hands moved higher under her shirt, and Dee squealed, backing away from him and falling onto the bed. His arms trapped, Blair was forced to follow, landing on top of her. He looked down at her and found she was trying very hard not to laugh. A sly grin spread from one corner of his mouth to the other, and his fingers moved lightly over her soft skin. She giggled. Encouraged, he tickled her a little more.

"Ahhh, Lobo, don't--damn it, I'm very-- " She couldn't finish the sentence, her giggles turning into moans as he pushed her shirt up and his mouth joined his hands. One of her hands buried itself in the curls at the back of his head, the other clutched at the quilt as she writhed under his expert attention. 

His fingers stoked down her stomach and unfastened her jeans, easing them over her hips and down her legs. Blair then hit a snag. "Boots," he said, raising his head from planting kisses along her collarbone. Her hand in his hair dragged him back down, and he felt her squirming underneath him, followed by the sound of first one, then the other boot hitting the floor. She moved again, and he heard her jeans drop to the hardwood as well. "A woman of many talents," he murmured against her cheek, as she grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt and yanked it over his head none too gently. 

Raising himself up on his elbows, Blair felt her hands roaming his chest, sliding through his chest hair, her palms grazing his sensitive nipples. He groaned as her mouth followed in her hands' wake, kissing and nibbling. She pulled his head down for a kiss, her tongue tangling with his as she hooked a leg over his thigh, and brought her hips up to meet his. The rest of their clothes quickly vanished over the side of the bed.

Moving over her, Blair gazed into her eyes, imagining he could see her Quickening flaming in their electric blue depths. Her hands pulled him into her then, and all coherent thought was burned away in the heat of their passion.

* * *

Jim awoke slowly, aware that something was different. Not wrong exactly, but not the same as it used to be. He was still in Simon's cabin, and judging by how far the fire in the fireplace had burned down, he had been asleep on the couch for a couple hours. A quick check of the cabin reassured him that Megan was still in bed asleep, and the woods outside held no surprises. He glanced at his watch confirming it was a little after four in the morning. He wondered if Blair and Dee had reached their hideout yet. As that thought crossed his mind, he realized that was what was different. The tension and stress he'd felt since the moment Dee's Cherokee had exploded almost 12 hours earlier had disappeared. Had that actually been Blair's emotions he'd been feeling?

He'd been to Simon's cabin before and knew where MacLeod's island was, about a mile away as the crow flies. Closing his eyes, he slipped into a light meditation state, filtering out one by one the sounds in the cabin and nature outside, searching for the familiar voice of his guide. He gave himself a mental high five as he found it. Blair was talking to Dee, and for the first time in what seemed like weeks, he sounded relaxed and happy.

"So you feeling better now? Think you can get some rest?" his guide asked.

Dee's answer was slow in coming. "Mmm, not if you're going to keep doing that."

"What? This? It's supposed to be soothing." Jim could hear the sound of cloth rustling.

"More like arousing," was her teasing answer.

"Try turning your touch sense down a notch. There, that better?"

"Yeah... " Dee yawned loudly, and there was silence for a few moments.

When Blair spoke again, his voice was a soft whisper. "I love you, angel."

"I love you too, Lobo." More silence ensued, then bedsprings creaked, and Dee said, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be, Dee?"

"Oh, in a word -- Jim."

The bed creaked again and Jim pictured Blair raising up on one elbow to stare down at the immortal. His words, however, were somewhat of a surprise to the sentinel. "Jim has nothing to do with this. This has nothing to do with sentinels and guides, or champions and companions. This has to do with two people loving each other. And I do love you, Dee." 

Nothing was said for almost a minute, then Dee spoke up again. "You know this can't last forever, Lobo. I can't stay in one place too long. Five, ten years is about my limit in any one city, and that's assuming I don't die in front of a bunch of witnesses."

"I don't care, Dee. Even if tonight is all we have, the memory of the love I feel right now will last me a lifetime." Blair's reply was earnest.

Dee's voice was quietly awestruck. "You have the soul of a poet, Lobo. Where in the world have you been all my life?"

"Waiting to be born," Blair quipped, and even to Jim's ears, Dee's laughter was delicious. Blair's chuckles soon joined hers. The laughter was quickly replaced with vocalizations of a more private kind, and Jim withdrew his hearing, pondering the repercussions of what he'd overheard. 

It was obvious now, if it hadn't been before, that Blair's feelings for Dee were stronger than ever. Where did that leave Jim?

* * *

The sounds of the forest were low and hushed, most of its dwellers still asleep though dawn was a scant hour or so away. The black and white osprey soared over the tops of the tall trees, unsure of the internal call that had pulled the day bird from its rest. A familiar piercing cry split the air, and the osprey wheeled in the sky, keen eyesight spotting the red falcon in spite of the darkness. 

Alighting on a tree branch, the falcon shimmered and changed into the Companion. A few moments later, the osprey followed suit, shifting from raptor to Australian Scot. Megan made herself comfortable on the broad tree limb and turned toward the red-haired woman. "Why have you called me?" she asked.

"Patience, young one," the Companion replied, then pointed to the clearing below. "There."

The black mare entered the small glade first, ears pricked, nostrils flaring. The area having passed her scrutiny, she nickered softly, and the silver wolf appeared out of the shadowy underbrush, favoring one leg. The wolf sank to the soft bed of pine needles with a small whine. Lying down beside the wolf, the mare stretched her neck over him protectively, nuzzling his injured limb. A faint blue glow lit up the glen, then faded as the wolf whimpered. The mare lipped at the ruff of fur on the back of his neck, and the wolf relaxed against her side, his blue eyes sliding closed. 

"Sandy's hurt," Megan said softly, more to herself than to the Companion, "and Dee healed him." She was about to ask the other woman her reason for bringing her here, when a low rumbling growl resonated through the woods. At first Megan didn't see the great cat, his coat blending with the shadows as he paced the perimeter of the clearing, his tail twitching in agitation. His glowing blue eyes finally caught her attention as he slunk closer to the resting pair. He snarled again, louder this time, a challenge to the mare. She snorted loudly, but didn't move from the wolf's side. 

The jaguar circled the area again, his vocalization growing from a growl to a scream. The wolf's eyes opened, and he whined, getting slowly to his feet. He moved to stand between the cat and the mare, his hackles raising. With a roar, the jag leapt for the mare, who belatedly was scrambling to her feet. The silver wolf hit the cat in mid-leap, his teeth going for the black-furred throat. 

"Jim, Sandy, no!" Megan screamed, as she dropped to the ground, helpless to stop the vicious battle.

Scooping up a rock from the ground, Megan hurled it at the fighting spirit guides, trying to turn their attention from each other to her. No such luck. There was never a fire hose around when you needed one. It dawned on her that the mare had not moved since she'd gotten to her feet; in fact, she seemed almost zoned. If anyone could stop the battle between wolf and jaguar, it would be her. All she would have to do was put her bigger bulk between them and it would be over.

Megan moved to the horse's side, laying a hand on her neck. "Come on, Dee," she pleaded, "come back to me." She felt the mare's skin twitch under her hand as she blinked her large blue eyes. Her head bobbed as she came back and Megan recognized the familiar post zone disorientation. "Dee, you have to stop them before they kill each other... "

The guide's words came too late. The wolf's sharp yelp was followed by a sickening snap. She turned to see the jag dropping the wolf's limp body to the ground. The black mare plunged past Megan, knocking her to the ground, a bone-chilling scream issuing from her throat. Sharp hooves flashed in the moonlight, bowling the cat over. She charged again, head low, teeth fastening at the nape of the jag's neck. The mare's whole body twisted to the side as she flung the cat across the clearing. Its body impacted with the trunk of a large tree, the sound of its back breaking echoing loudly in the guide's ears.

"Nooooo!" Megan screamed. "This is not supposed to happen. Jim would never hurt Sandy, never!" Kneeling in the middle of the glade, she watched the mare shamble slowly to the wolf's side, and drop to the ground beside him. Stretching her neck across his still body, she buried her muzzle in his ruff, closed her eyes, and simply... stopped existing. 

Horrified, Megan stared at the three unmoving forms through tear blurred eyes, watching them slowly fade away until nothing remained but the ground, the bushes, and the trees. She felt warm hands on her shoulders, and the Companion knelt beside her. "I am sorry you find this vision so disturbing, little one. I did not mean to frighten you so." Her hand stroked the Aussie's hair gently. "It is a vision of the future, of what may come to pass. You must stop this from happening. You must not let the jaguar's fear blind him to the truth inside his own heart." She sighed, shaking her head. "Would that I could speak with him, for perhaps I could assuage his fears."

"How am I supposed to stop this?" Megan asked. "And how will I know when it will happen? What if I am not there?"

"You will be there, little one, just as you were tonight. And bear in mind that what you saw may not be exactly what happens in the real world. But there will be a falling out between the three who are one, and it will have dire and far-reaching consequences only you can prevent. The time is coming when only you can help the Champion, your soulmate."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Megan shivered. There was so much she didn't know, so much she had to learn. And Dee, what if Dee did not accept her as her companion? What would happen then? 

The Companion must have felt her apprehension, for she said, "Diandra is afraid, little one. Afraid to allow anyone to become that deeply connected to her again. But she will have to make a decision soon, she will have to chose to take another Companion."

"And what if she chooses not to?" Megan asked.

The small woman sighed. "Then she will soon be joining me here. She will lose all semblance of control over her gifts, making her vulnerable to those who hunt her. She will not last long if she refuses your help."

"And what if I don't want to be her Companion?" Megan asked. "I mean, it's not like we've really bonded or actually even had a heart to heart talk... there are so many things about her I don't understand."

The Companion smiled at her. "Sometimes Diandra is still a mystery to me as well. Hers is an old soul, and it has known far more pain and sorrow than anyone should have to suffer, starting with my death."

Megan turned to face the red-haired woman, seeing an opening to ask the question she had not dared to ask Blair or Dee. "How did you die?"

"Oh, child, we broke the cardinal rule. We were not watching each other's backs." The Companion waved her hand, and the pre-dawn clearing became a battlefield at sunset.

Smoke rose from fading fires, and the smell of death was overwhelming. Bodies littered the ground, human and equine. The silence was pierced only by the screams of the dying. Megan looked down and nearly gagged. A woman warrior dressed in garb similar to the Companion's lay at her feet, her torso cut open from shoulder to hip. Seeing her distress, the Companion took her gently by the elbow, and led her across the field, to where a small group of female fighters were gathered, listening to one of their number.

As they drew closer, Megan recognized the speaker as the Companion, though her armor was gouged and bloodstained and her face covered in soot. Behind her, her arms crossed over her chest, stood Diandra. Megan let out an audible gasp at the imposing sight. Diandra stood almost a foot taller than the other warriors, and was dressed in bright red leather and brass armor, a sword sheathed at her back. Her shoulders were bare, to give her fuller range of movement, but gauntlets protected her upper arms and wrists, and leather and brass guards ran from her thighs to her ankles. Any part of her that was not covered by armor was coated in a mixture of blood and dirt. Her dark, sweat-soaked hair hung in a heavy braid down her back, escaping tendrils sticking out in every direction.

The Companion turned to Diandra. "What is the situation now, Champion?"

Diandra spoke, punctuating her words with her hands. "The slavers are finally on the retreat, my Queen. Request permission to take a party after them, to make sure they don't regroup."

The Queen surveyed the battlefield, watching the healers moving among the injured. "How far away?" she finally asked.

Diandra closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as the Queen laid a small hand on her Champion's shoulder. A few seconds passed, then Diandra opened her eyes and spoke. "Not more than a quarter league, heading toward the river. They probably have ships waiting there."

A runner approached the group, dropping to her knee before the Queen as she gasped for breath. "My Queen, three of our warriors have been captured."

The Companion turned to the Champion. "Go. I will remain with the healers to finish up here. Artemis speed you on your way." She clasped Diandra to her briefly, her lips brushing lightly against the taller woman's. Letting go of her, she watched as her soulmate trotted away from her, followed by ten warriors.

Turning to the rest of her people, she said, "Come, the healers need our help." 

Megan turned to the Companion next to her, her eyes wide. "Diandra was--was an Amazon?" 

The Companion nodded. "As was I, though neither of us were to the Nation born. Artemis chose us both to lead her followers."

Gesturing with her hand, the scene changed again, and Megan found herself in the middle of a battle between the slavers and Diandra's warriors. The Amazons were formidable fighters, Megan noted, but Diandra was incredible. No movement was wasted; each swing of her sword did damage. Even though she looked invincible, the Aussie noticed with alarm there was no one at her back, and it was from there the deadly blow came. One moment Diandra was running a raider through, the next she was on the ground, a spear piercing her back. 

Her warriors were well trained, though. They did not stop to help her until all the slavers had been killed. They clustered round their fallen leader then, four of them holding the still conscious woman down, while a fifth pulled the spear out. Diandra's scream of pain would haunt Megan forever. The Companion slid an arm around her shaking shoulders, and as they watched, the Champion drew her last breath. 

"No, no," Megan sobbed. "She's not supposed to die now, Sandy told me she survived her guide!"

"Watch, little one," the Companion said, and at her words, Diandra inhaled sharply and her eyes snapped open. 

Immediately her senses turned inward, and she gave a stricken cry. "Goddess, no! LYDIA!" Scrambling to her feet, she headed back the way they'd come at a dead run, her warriors following close behind.

The scenery surrounding Megan and the Companion dissolved to the battlefield. Queen Lydia, several guards, and a healer were crossing the field slowly, searching for survivors. The Queen knelt by one of her fallen Amazons, checking for signs of life. Shaking her head, she moved on to where a slaver and an Amazon had fallen together. Both appeared dead. As the Companion leaned over to examine the woman, the raider came to life, plunging a knife deep into the Queen's chest. She fell back, a startled expression on her face. The guards made short work of her attacker, as the healer frantically tried to stop the Queen's bleeding. 

Minutes passed slowly, as Megan wiped at the tears running down her face. A flash of color at the far side of the field caught her eye, Diandra's armor stained blood red by the fading light of the sun. She dropped to her knees beside her lover, strong arms lifting her to gently rest against her shoulder. "No, no, Lydia, it's too soon. You can't leave me!" Diandra pressed her cheek against the smaller woman's, their tears mingling.

"What's done is done, my love. Do not mourn for me, for you will carry me in your heart always." Her hand reached up to cup her soulmate's cheek, "I love you more than there are stars in the sky. I will be waiting for you on the other side." Her turquoise eyes slid shut, and her hand dropped across her chest. The Champion rocked her slowly in the deepening twilight, her sobs growing louder as the night approached.

Megan shuddered, her heart breaking for the grieving Champion. The Companion's hand on her arm got her attention. "Now you know, little one, why she is afraid to give her heart completely again, to fully bond with another companion. But she must, or give up living."

Swallowing hard, the Aussie wiped her face on her sleeve. "I will do my best to make her understand, to be the best guide I can to her."

The Companion took a step back, regarding her keenly. "I can see that you will. Remember what you have seen here tonight, and use that knowledge to save her, to save all of them." Putting her hands on Megan's shoulders, she stood on tiptoe, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Athena grant you wisdom, and Artemis give you strength." Stepping back, she shimmered, and the red falcon took to the air. 

Megan stared after her until she could no longer see the raptor, then collapsed to the forest floor, the world going dark.


	6. Chapter 6

When Megan awoke, the grey light of dawn was filtering through the window. Cocooned in the blankets, she tried to remember all she had experienced on her journey to the spirit world. Had Diandra really been alive in Ancient Greece? Or did the Companion's comment about her having an "old soul" mean she had been reincarnated? The answers she had been given only led to more questions. What she really wanted was to talk to Dee, to lay all the pieces she had on the table and have her show Megan how they all fit together.

Yawning, she pushed the covers down and sat up, letting out a startled squeak as she spied Jim sitting in a chair at the end of the bed. "Glad you've returned to the land of the living, Connor," he said with a slight grin. "I was beginning to worry."

Megan curled her arms around her knees and raised one eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

"You were having some kind of a nightmare last night, screaming and crying, and I couldn't wake you." The sentinel's gaze was concerned.

She ran a hand through her tangled curls. "I had a vision," she said finally, her voice raw with emotion. "It was-- disturbing to say the least."

"Any thing I should know about?" Jim asked.

Megan nodded. Forewarned was forearmed. "You killed Sandy." At his shocked gasp, Megan elaborated. "Or, rather, the jaguar killed the wolf and was slain by the black mare, who then laid down and died. The Companion told me it was a vision of the future, and it was my responsibility to prevent it from coming true."

Jim leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling loosely. Memories of the vision he'd had of shooting the wolf during Alex's reign of terror flashed through his mind. It was happening all over again, he thought, and he said as much.

Scooting down to the end of the bed, Megan took his hand. "Jim, this time is different, this time we know what the vision means."

"Do we?" he asked. "I thought I knew before, so I sent Blair away, right into Alex's clutches."

"There is no Alex this time, only the four of us, and the jag wouldn't have attacked the wolf if he hadn't come between the cat and the mare."

Shaking his head, Jim straightened and clenched his jaw. "It always comes back to her, doesn't it? When she moved back to Seacouver, I thought she was out of our lives forever, and now she's right in the middle again, coming between Blair and me."

The Aussie was shocked at the anger and bitterness that colored his voice, along with more than a hint of fear. How could she reassure him that this was not what the vision meant? She seized on the Companion's words. "Jim, the Companion said I had the ability to stop that from happening, and I will do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't. She told me it was my duty to protect the 'three who are one'. Do you know what she meant by that?"

Jim immediately thought of the connection he shared with his guide, and the blue-white ribbon of energy woven through the gold band. That connection had been strong enough to transport the effects of a Quickening over 50 miles. He rubbed his hand over his face wearily. "The three of us are connected, our life forces intertwined. Dee is connected to me through Blair, or at least that's what she told me. I don't know how much stock I can put in what she says."

Megan frowned at him. "Jim, Dee seems like a pretty honest person to me. Has she ever lied to you?"

The detective considered her question for a long time, then said, "No, not really. She just--I don't know. I just don't trust her."

Megan snorted. "Jim, you have a hard time trusting anyone, myself and Sandy included. It's part of your nature and it's what makes you a good cop, but it plays havoc with the rest of your life. Maybe, just this once, your suspicions are unfounded. Sure, Dee is a difficult person to get to know, but so are you, and for much the same reason. You're both wary of letting anyone too close for fear of being hurt again."

Slouching in the chair, Jim gave a short mirthless laugh. "And where did you get your psychology degree, Connor?"

Her answer followed an exasperated sigh. "Sandy doesn't seem to have any problem trusting her."

Ellison rolled his eyes. "He's blinded by love, or lust, take your pick."

Megan chucked a pillow at him, smacking him square in the face. "You are bloody insufferable, Ellison. I don't know how Sandy puts up with you. Would it kill you to just **believe** for once? To just take someone at face value and quit looking below the surface for some reason to justify your own insecurities?"

Jim got to his feet, his jaw muscles working overtime. "Are we finished?"

She was very, very tempted to say no, but the thought of spending an entire weekend getting the silent treatment was rather unappealing. "For now," she finally replied.

Grumbling, he stomped off to the kitchen to presumably start breakfast. Shooting one last irritated glare at his back, Megan headed for the shower.

* * *

Dee slid out from under the quilt, trying not to wake Blair. Shivering in the cold air, she tossed on her flannel shirt and padded into the other room. She threw a couple logs on the fire, stirring up the embers of the old and adding enough kindling so that it began to blaze again. She did the same for the stove, setting a pot of water on for coffee, then she headed back to the bedroom, and got back into the still warm bed.

Blair stirred, mumbling something about freezing. Dee moved closer to him, wrapping an arm over his chest and intertwining her leg with his. His breathing evened out, and he slept again. She kept watch over him, listening to the sound of water beginning to boil in the kitchen. An indeterminate time later, the world came rushing back to her, Blair's anxious eyes peering into hers.

"Dee, follow my voice back, come back... " he was saying in an almost frantic voice.

Taking a deep breath, she blinked, then said, "It's okay, Lobo, I'm here." Raising up on her elbows, she shook her head. "Shit, I zoned, didn't I?"

Blair nodded. "Big time, though what on, I don't know." He ran a forefinger down her cheek. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry," she answered sheepishly. "Guess I was still pretty tired." A noise from the kitchen drew her attention. "And I think I zoned on the coffeepot." Rising, she walked into the other room, added more water to the pot, and put it back on the stove. 

After pulling on his sweats, Blair followed her. She looked up from breaking eggs into a bowl. "How are you feeling this morning?"

He ran both hands through his disheveled hair. "My knee's okay, and the rest is just minor aches and pains."

Dee set a skillet on one of the burners and added a pat of butter. "How are you otherwise?"

Pausing in his search for coffee cups, he gave her a curious look. "Otherwise?" 

She didn't know quite how to approach this. "Yeah, emotionally, spiritually, psychologically. You know, we really didn't talk much about what you went through last night. Are you having any side effects from the Quickening, any questions you want to ask me, that kind of thing."

At her words, Blair was transported to that moment in the alley. He remembered her urging him to run, but his injured leg had betrayed him once again, and he'd fallen, her hands grabbing his upper arms in an instinctual move he could see she regretted as soon as the first surge of Quickening energy struck her.

It had flowed from her to him following the path of least resistance, carrying with it indescribable agony and, at the same time, overwhelming pleasure. Hitching a ride with the physical sensations had been mental ones, visions or memories of a life long past. He would have expected them to be Hale's, but instead he found the Quickening opened up the doorways to Diandra's mind, and scenes from her life flashed by like slides in an out of control projector.

Most of the scenes he'd been unable to absorb, so quickly had they passed, but he could recall a body-strewn field at sunset and the turquoise eyes of her dying companion. Images whizzed by, slowing to a vision of Dee dressed in sequins and tights, astride a large horse in a circus setting, watching a dark-haired woman perform on the trapeze. 

The memories shuffled, and he caught a glimpse of Diandra sitting on a bench in Victorian dress, a large mansion visible behind her. A small blond girl raced across the lawn, leaping into Dee's arms for a hug. Blair could see her face clearly and though she was smiling and laughing, the child's eyes were hard and cold and familiar. Before he had time to wonder about that, the idyllic setting became a jungle and a fatigue-clad Dee crept through the underbrush toward a World War II Japanese stronghold.

Once more the scene changed, flipping past images of the Australian Outback to pause on a recent event set in MacLeod's dojo. Methos was on his knees, bleeding from a fatal wound to the chest, Dee poised to take his head when the Immortal Blair knew only by reputation, Duncan MacLeod, deflected her blow with his own sword. Diandra's face contorted in rage, and she raised her right hand toward him, palm out. Energy exploded across the short distance between them, hurling MacLeod the full length of the dojo, shorting out the lights and breaking all the windows. 

The slides changed again, and Blair saw three black clad figures burst through a doorway to find a man holding a sword to the neck of what Blair assumed was an Immortal. Again energy sprang from Dee's hands, fueled from the combined power of herself and the Immortals on either side of her, MacLeod and Methos. The man with the sword was lifted into the air and ripped apart, releasing a Quickening that brought the walls down around them.

The vision shifted to dark, storm-tossed woods. Diandra stood in the center of a clearing, then whirled to find a blond haired boy of no more than 11 or 12 standing over a fallen man, a sword clutched in his grasp. She chased the child through the forest, taking him down with a kick to the head, then severing his neck with his own sword. 

Another change, and Dee was battling an Immortal female in a parking garage, while a wounded Dana Scully leaned against a post in the background. Dee disarmed the female, then turned her attention toward her student, sheathing her sword inside her coat. The other woman continued to verbally bait Diandra, though Blair couldn't make out the words. Something she said must have pushed her over the edge, because Dee drew her katana and whirled, taking the other Immortal's head in one smooth movement.

The next picture was more recent still, Diandra kneeling on the pavement, scattered books around her, looking up at a chestnut haired, blue eyed grad student. Moments from their friendship flew by, training together, sharing lunch, dancing at Joe's, the battle at the lighthouse, Diandra leaving, finding Megan, the talk on the stairway, the Cherokee exploding, and finally her arms around him as the Quickening finished.

"Lobo, Blair!" Dee's hands were on his shoulders, shaking him gently. "Blair, are you okay?"

Blinking slowly, he looked up at her. She pulled a chair out from the table and pushed him into it. "What just happened, Lobo? You were a million miles away."

He swallowed with difficulty, not sure how to explain. "I was--remembering the Quickening. I--everything was you--all these images, these visions of you, from your life. The closer they came to now, the stronger they were." Leaning his elbows on the table, he buried his hands in his hair. "God, Dee, how do you do it? So much violence, so much death... "

Taking a deep breath, Dee sat down next to him. This was not what she had expected, but then nothing about the previous night had been normal. She reached out to him, her hand hesitating over his. Goddess, how do I comfort him? She withdrew her hand, placing it in her lap. Physical contact from her might not be welcome at this moment. "How do I do what?" she finally asked, her voice shaky.

Blair lifted his head to look at her. "Survive. How do you not go crazy knowing you'll outlive everyone you've ever loved?" He frowned as a thought crossed his mind. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, "I'm sorry I can't be with you forever, that I have to leave you."

Tears stung her eyes, and Dee slid off her chair to kneel beside him, gazing up into his tormented face. "Oh, baby," she breathed, "Lobo, it's okay. You will always be with me, in my mind, in my heart. I will never forget you, forget how much you care. That's how I survive, how I stay sane, by remembering the people I've loved and knowing they wouldn't want me to give up, that they would want me to go on." 

He caught her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss her fiercely. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she deepened the kiss, pulling him off the chair to join her on the floor. The smell of something burning, and the trilling of Blair's cell phone interrupted any further activity. 

Breaking away from her, Blair scrambled to the living area, pulling his phone from his backpack. Smiling at his eagerness, Dee got to her feet, taking the skillet off the burner and waiting until it cooled a bit before she wiped out the burned butter. Blair walked back into the kitchen the phone pressed to his ear.

"Yeah, Jim, we made it here okay. It was just pretty late." He tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear and poured two cups of coffee, adding milk to them both, then glanced at Dee, who mouthed, "No honey, use sugar," at him. "So how did the two of you manage last night?"

Jim leaned against the kitchen counter, one ear listening to Megan talking to herself in the other room. "We managed okay, except for the little incident with the Bronco. Next time you're going to get in the middle of a Quickening, give me a little notice, okay?"

"Shit, Jim! What happened?" Blair's worried eyes caught Dee's.

"I felt it. Connor said it was like a zone out at first, and I nearly drove us off a cliff. Fortunately, she managed to save our asses, at the expense of the truck. Then she said I had a seizure." 

Blair bit his lip, considering the events. "The energy must have traveled down our connection. Did you get any images with that?"

Jim started to shake his head, then realized Blair couldn't see that. "No, no images, just pain. Lots and lots of pain, enough that I started to like it." He shuddered involuntarily. "I would rather not go through it again." He could hear Dee's voice in the background.

"Dee thinks it was just a freak incident, since she was in physical contact with me when the Quickening happened. I don't plan on being anywhere in the vicinity next time she has to take a head." He felt the Immortal give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Look, Chief, I don't know how good the cell phone reception is going to stay up here, but I want to let you know you're not so far away that I can't hear you. Dee can probably hear us too. So if anything happens, and the cell phone is unavailable, just give a shout. I'll be keeping an ear open."

Blair looked over at Dee, who had her eyes closed, and her head cocked toward the west. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and nodded. "She's got you, Jim. We'll do the same thing on our end. Listen, I have about a million things I want to talk to you about, but I have no way to recharge my phone here, since MacLeod seems to be a fan of the rustic life. We'll have to do it once we're back in Cascade on Monday." He lowered his voice. "I miss you, man. Us being apart just doesn't feel right."

Jim was surprised at how much his guide's words warmed his heart. "I miss you too, buddy. Stay safe."

Blair clicked off his phone, staring silently out the window across the dark expanse of water. He felt Dee's arms slide around his waist from behind, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, not saying anything, but her silent presence letting him know she understood. Finally he turned toward her, and asked, "What's for breakfast?"

* * *

Jim paced back and forth across the living room of Simon's cabin, waiting for his call to go through. He'd waited until lunchtime to contact his superior, feeling better knowing most of the PD would be away from their desks. He glanced over at Megan, who was sitting in front of the large picture window, an artist's sketch pad in her lap, a box of pastels on the table next to her. She'd discovered the art supplies on a search of the cabin that morning, a leftover reminder of the time Simon had tried taking up painting as a stress reducer. She had finished the rough outline of her drawing in pencil, and was now contentedly, almost obsessively, filling in the colors. From his position, he couldn't see enough of the work to know what it was, but if it kept Connor busy, and her mind off of psychoanalyzing him, then he was happy.

"Simon Banks."

Jim tore his attention from the Aussie. "Simon, it's Jim. Just thought I would update you on what's going on here."

"I was beginning to worry there, Ellison. Did you make it to the cabin okay?"

"Yes and no, sir. We're fine, but the truck is not. I'm afraid you'll have to send someone to get us late Sunday night. We managed to get it stuck pretty good." He pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for the Captain's response.

"Ellison! Can't you manage a simple babysitting job without wrecking a vehicle? Brown is going to be pissed. You get to be the one to tell him about it."

Jim sighed. "Sorry, Simon, it's a long story, one I don't have time to go into now. What's the situation there?"

"Seems to be normal. We've been keeping an eye on Cristo, and he hasn't given us any reason to think he doesn't believe the four of you are dead. Let me tell you, though, the phones have been ringing off the hook here. You'd be amazed at how many people are upset about what happened. There are a lot of folks who care a great deal about you and Sandburg, and Connor, too."

Jim felt his stomach knot. He hadn't thought of how others would be affected by his plan, especially his father and brother. "Have you heard from any of my family?"

"No, no, we tried to contact them, to let them know what was up, but both your father and Steven are out of the country at the moment. Hopefully they won't hear about it until you get back on Monday," Simon said. "Look, Jim, if there's anything you need, you call me, okay? Do you know how Sandburg and Pallas are doing?"

"Yeah, I talked to them this morning. They seem to be fine."

"Seem to be? What does that mean, Jim?"

"It means they're fine. I'm just uneasy about us being separated. We can hear each other though, so it's not so bad." He opened up his hearing to check on them, then swiftly closed it down again, feeling a blush warm his cheeks. Jesus, they were worse than rabbits. 

"Okay, Jim, I'll take your word for it. Check in with me again in about 8 hours, and I'll give you the latest from here."

"Okay, Simon, and thanks for your help." Disconnecting the call, Jim walked over to where Megan sat, glancing over her shoulder at the half-finished artwork. He found it extremely disturbing. A jaguar crouched over the body of a wolf, as a horse reared back in anger. A chill ran down his spine, and he turned away without saying a word, his mind reeling over the strength of her vision. What could possibly cause him to turn on his guide? Needing some space, he grabbed his jacket, and headed outside.

* * *

Dee and Blair had dozed off on the sofa after supper. Raising herself up on her elbow, Dee turned her hearing outward, unsure of what had woken her. The sharp crack came again, and she sat up swiftly, dumping Blair on the floor.

"Hey, what the--" he exclaimed.

Diandra was already on her feet, yanking on her boots and fastening her swords across her back. "Get your stuff on, Lobo. Jim and Megan are in trouble. Someone's found them, someone with a gun."

* * *

Megan laid her cards on the table. "Gin," she announced, unable to keep a satisfied smirk off her face. "You're going to end up owing me your next paycheck the way you're playing."

Jim shook his head, and tossed his hand onto the discard pile. "Sorry, Connor. My mind's not on the game."

Squaring the cards up, she gave them a shuffle. "Worried about Sandy?" she asked.

Closing his eyes, the sentinel rubbed the knot at the back of his neck with one hand. "Yes and no," he finally said. "I know Diandra won't let anything happen to him. Hell, she's better equipped to take care of him than I am; she doesn't have to worry about the location of the nearest hospital whenever he gets into trouble. It's just that I feel it should be me watching his back." He shrugged. 

Megan began to deal the cards, realizing that conversely, Jim probably would feel better with Sandy looking out for him. She suddenly wished that Dee and Sandy, or Simon, or anyone were here with them to ease the growing tension in the room. "Sorry, Jimbo," she finally said lightly, "you're stuck with me."

He glanced up from his hand, seeing the self-doubt in her eyes immediately. "I'm sorry, Connor. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. You are a good guide; you proved that last night. The problem is you're just not _my_ guide." He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring grin.

"I promise I won't let anything happen to you, not like what happened to Lydia," she vowed, regretting mentioning the Companion as soon as the words left her mouth. 

"Who's Lydia?" Jim asked, sensing there was something the Aussie was keeping from him.

Sighing, Megan answered him, knowing he would keep prodding her until he got the story out of her. "Lydia is the Companion, the woman I see in my visions."

"And what happened to her?" Jim laid his cards down, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"She died." She was going to make him work for it.

"I know she died. But what does that have to do with us?" 

Megan pushed the ace of spades around in a little circle on the table with her forefinger. "She died because she and Diandra were separated. For what it's worth, Diandra died too, though that part has me puzzled." 

Jim knew he was going to regret asking, but he did anyway. "Why are you puzzled?"

"Well, she had a spear go clear through her. Nobody could have survived that kind of injury especially during that era." 

"And what era would that be?"

Megan looked around the room, pointedly avoiding meeting Jim's eyes. "This is going to sound really weird, but Ancient Greece, a couple thousand years ago."

It was Jim's turn to wish Blair and Dee were present. Why did he end up having to answer all the hard questions? He tried a trick from the Sandburg book of obfuscation. "Oh, come on, Connor. Are you trying to tell me Diandra is thousands of years old?"

"No, but how else can I explain what Lydia showed me?" 

Go for the simple explanation, Ellison, Jim told himself. "Spirit visions are notoriously inaccurate, Megan. I'm not saying that what you saw didn't happen, I'm just saying the way in which it was presented is a little suspect. Those kinds of visions, in my experience, are open to a lot of interpretation. So maybe what you saw actually happened, but not in that particular setting. The vision may have been drawn from your own subconscious, from the way you see Diandra." Sandburg would have been proud of him.

"Well, maybe," Megan admitted. "I do have Amazons on the brain because of Sandy. He gave me Dee's book, 'Daughters of Artemis', to read. And Dee does remind me a lot of one of the main characters, Dreena, who is the Queen's consort and leader of their warriors."

"I believe that's called a Mary Sue," Jim said, trying very hard not to laugh. 

"A what?"

"A Mary Sue. That's when the author writes himself or herself into the book as a character. So it would only be natural for you to have a vision in which Dee is an Amazon, based on what you just told me." He gave her a smile.

She pondered that for a few moments, then said, "You don't think there's any way Dee could be that old, then?"

Jim shook his head. "Think about what you're saying, Connor. The only way she could be that old would be if she were an--an alien, or immortal. And I don't think you believe in aliens, do you?"

"No," she said slowly, "but what about reincarnation? What if she's the reincarnated soul of an Amazon? Lydia did say she had an old soul."

Sensing control of the conversation was slipping out of his grasp, Jim rose and headed for the kitchen for a glass of water. "I'm no expert in that area. Sandburg's the person to talk to there."

Megan gave a frustrated sigh. "I guess I'll just have to wait until this weekend's over to get the answers to my questions. " She grabbed the sketchpad she had been working with earlier, and turning to an unfinished drawing, began to add color to it. 

Coming back into the living room, Jim paused behind her, admiring her work. The drawing was of two Amazon warriors, their backs to each other, swords drawn against an invisible enemy. The taller of the two figures was immediately recognizable to Jim as Diandra, but he couldn't place the smaller one. "Is that Lydia?" he asked.

Megan glanced up at him. "Hmm, I think so, I'm not entirely sure; it's not done yet, you see."

Okaaaay, Jim thought. Connor was getting just a little too weird for him. Still, he supposed her sudden interest in drawing spirit visions wasn't harmful. Crossing to the sofa, he sat down, suppressing a yawn, and gazed into the fire.

Laying down the pastel she had been working with, Megan stretched, and glanced at the clock on the rough-hewn mantelpiece over the fireplace. It showed a quarter past ten. Yawning, she started to rise when the faint sound of a car engine reached her ears. She looked at the sentinel still seated on the couch. How come Jim hadn't heard it? Was he asleep? 

Rapidly she crossed the small space between them, and looked into his face. Damn it, he'd zoned on something, probably the fire. She shook him urgently. "Jim! Come on, Jim, snap out of it! Someone's headed this way!" Listening again, she heard the engine shut off and a muffled door slam. They didn't have time for her to finesse Jim out of the zone. "Sorry, Jim," she whispered, then slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

He leapt to his feet, and Megan jumped back to avoid his instinctive swing. "Connor! What the hell-- "

"We've got trouble, Jim. Someone just drove up." She was moving across the cabin, grabbing their weapons from kitchen table, and stuffing extra clips in her pockets. 

Jim listened for a moment, then joined her in the kitchen. "Out the back door, now!" Into the frigid night they ran, unable to spare the few seconds it would have taken to grab their coats. They wasted no time in crossing the small clearing and heading into the woods. Once inside the tree line, Jim paused, getting a fix on the intruders. "Damn it," he cursed softly. "It's Cristo and what sounds like four or five of his goons. I don't think they're here for a social visit. 

Handing him his gun and a couple clips, Megan said, "How do you want to play it? Think we can take them?" 

From their position slightly above the cabin, Jim could see the men fan out with military precision. "No, not in a face to face fight. They look like mercenaries. They've got body armor, night vision scopes, and automatic rifles. We're outnumbered and outgunned. Come on, let's see if we can lose them, then maybe circle back for their vehicle." He headed toward the west, away from the cabin, carefully keeping to the bare ground under the thick trees, wanting to leave as few tracks as possible in the snow. 

Megan followed, latching onto his belt to keep them together, since he was the only one who could see where they were going. "What about Blair and Dee?" she whispered. "Do you think Cristo knows they're alive?"

Jim gave her a hand over a rocky outcropping. "No, I heard him say something about you being the last loose end." 

The sound of a gunshot made them both duck, but they quickly realized it hadn't been fired in their direction. A second shot followed the first. "He's pissed they didn't surprise us at the cabin," Jim said, "and he's taking it out on the driver for getting too close before stopping. Let's get some miles between us and them before they start hunting in earnest." 

They had only gone a short distance before Jim pulled up again. "Now what?" Megan asked.

"It's Dee," Jim said. He listened for a moment, then said, "Damn it, no. We can handle this." He paused. "I said no, Dee. Your job is to protect Blair not-- " He was silent for almost a minute. Even in the filtered moonlight, Megan could see his jaw clenching. Sighing in resignation, he finally said, "Fine, okay, forty-five minutes."

Sensing the conversation was over, Megan asked, "What did she want?"

"She thinks she's coming to save our asses." He shook his head. "She and Blair will meet us in a small cove northeast of here in three quarters of an hour. Shit, that means we have to go back past the cabin. Come on." Taking her hand, he headed off through the trees again.

* * *

Shoving the canoe into the water, Diandra leapt into the stern, grabbing her paddle and digging it into the black water. Blair glanced back over his shoulder at her, taking in the combined emotions of concern and cold fury blazing in her eyes. Fear writhed in the pit of his stomach at her expression. Whatever she was hearing must be bad, very bad. She swore in a language only she understood, and increased her strokes. Blair did the same.

They had covered what the guide estimated to be roughly half the distance to the western shore of the lake when they both heard the rapid staccato of an automatic weapon. Giving a sharp cry, Blair nearly dropped his paddle as stinging pain shot through his left bicep. He looked back at Dee, seeing his agony reflected in her eyes. "Jim's been shot," she told him calmly, confirming his worst fear. "Keep paddling, Lobo."

Blair bent himself to the task again, the ache in his arm fading. At least he knew the injury wasn't life threatening. "Have they been captured?" he asked.

"No, they're still heading for the cove, but Cristo's men are on their trail. They're making for rougher ground to try and lose them."

"You got all that from their movements?"

A small smile crossed Dee's face. "No, Megan's giving me the play-by-play." 

Her words reassured Blair that everything was okay, and in a short time, the bottom of the canoe was scraping against the beach. Both of them jumped out, dragging the boat higher onto the sand, then Dee paused to get a fix on the two parties, Blair's hand on her back grounding her. "There," she said finally, pointing toward a stand of thick pines, as Jim and Megan broke through the cover, crossing the distance between the trees and the water at a jog. 

Coming to a stop in front of the Champion and Guide, both Jim and Megan struggled to catch their breath. Slipping out of her parka, Dee wrapped it around Megan's shoulders, while Blair went immediately to his sentinel's side, examining his injury. Jim swiped half-heartedly at his partner's hand. "Don't worry about it, Chief. It went through clean." Blair continued to fuss, yanking a strip from his shirt to use to dress the wound. Shaking his head with a grin, Jim turned his attention to Dee. "We don't have much time," he said. "They're maybe ten minutes behind us. How do you wanna do this?"

Turning toward him, Dee gave him a grim smile. "The three of you get in the canoe and start paddling. The island is due east of here; you can't miss it."

"Dee, you can't stay here!" Megan's voice was almost frantic.

"I agree," Jim said. "Either we all go, or we all stay."

"Ellison, don't argue with me. There's not enough room, and I'm the logical choice to stay behind. Get the two of them out of here. That's what's important. Protect the companions." The warrior drew herself up to her full height, and Jim could feel the energy pouring off her.

"No, goddamn it, I'm not going to let you stay here. You're outnumbered--" He shrugged off Blair's placating hand and took a step toward her, drawing his weapon. "If I have to shoot you to get you in the damn boat, I will."

"Jim, man, you don't mean that!" Blair said, staring at the Sentinel and Champion in shock. "This is not the time for you two to have a head butting contest."

Megan's head came up at Blair's words, an alarm going off inside her, the Companion's voice urging her to move, MOVE!

"Try it!" the Immortal snarled, her hand reaching over her shoulder, her fingers closing around the hilt of her katana.

Jim pointed his gun at her, his finger tightening on the trigger. Too late he realized his guide now stood between himself and Dee. The sound of the gunshot bounced off the mountains, and echoed across the still lake.

* * *

His legs suddenly unable to support his weight, Jim sagged to the ground, his weapon falling from limp fingers. What had he done? Oh, god, what had he done?

"Jim, what in the bloody hell were you thinking? You nearly killed Sandy!" Megan picked up his gun from where it had fallen and stuck it in the pocket of Dee's parka. "Damn it, Jimbo, we don't have time for this!"

Dee unwrapped her arms from around a shell-shocked Blair. "You've got to be the luckiest man alive, Ellison. If Megan hadn't bumped your hand, you would have killed your guide." Grabbing him by the shirtfront she hauled him to his feet, her words pitched too low for the others to hear. "And you would have followed him in a matter of seconds. Now get in the fucking canoe and get them the hell away from here." 

Managing to pull himself together, Jim asked, "What are you going to do?"

Dee's eyes flashed in the light of the full moon. "I'm going to see how Cristo likes fighting under the Amazon rules of war." 

Jim moved past her to where his soulmate stood, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, his face white with fear. "I'm sorry, Blair," he said softly, unable to meet the other man's eyes. 

The color came rushing back to the anthropologist's cheeks as he spit out, "This has got to end, Jim. It has to end tonight." The sentinel nodded slowly then went to stand next to the canoe with a still shaking Megan.

Blair moved to Dee's side, his hand automatically reaching for hers. Clasping it in both her own, she raised it to her lips and kissed the back of his fingers. "It'll be okay, Lobo," she said quietly, her eyes meeting and holding his.

"I know what you're going to do," he told her.

"And?"

"And I want you to know I love you... and I want you to promise me you'll come back to me." His free hand caressed her face, feeling the warmth of her tears against his skin. 

"I promise," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. Then she stepped back, drawing her knife from its sheath on her wrist. She paused, the tip of the blade held over her forefinger. 

Blair held out his hand to her, knowing she wasn't asking for his participation in the ritual, but needing to give her something of himself to take with her into battle. He could hear the gasps from both Megan and Jim as the knife pricked his finger, blood rising from the small cut. Diandra guided his hand in drawing the ancient symbols, the sign for Athena, the Goddess of Righteous War on her forehead, and Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt on her right cheek. He moved his hand to her left cheek, but she stopped him with a small shake of her head. 

"That one's mine, Lobo," she told him, slicing her finger and drawing the symbol for Death. "Now go." 

Blair hugged her once more, then walked over to join Jim and Megan, grabbing the bow of the canoe and dragging it into the water. Megan climbed into the center seat and Jim into the rear, Blair turning toward the shore one last time, watching as Dee drew her katana with her right hand, and her wakizashi with her left. Crossing them above her head, an Amazon battle cry poured from her throat, then she headed for the trees.

Blair hopped into the front of the canoe, picked up his paddle, and didn't look back.


	7. Chapter 7

Moving with an easy grace through the underbrush, Diandra paused to get her bearings, and locate the objects of her hunt. There, a hundred yards or so to her left, was the heartbeat and rapid breathing of her quarry. Heading silently in that direction, she circled round, approaching the mercenary from behind. She studied him momentarily, taking in the assault rifle and body armor. The kevlar would deflect her swords if she chose to engage him in a prolonged battle. Better just to strike the killing blow and be done with it. 

Stepping out of the trees behind him, she said, "Hey." He whirled on her, his finger squeezing the trigger, the shots firing harmlessly into the air as her kick knocked his arm aside, her backhanded sword stroke sliding smoothly through his neck. 

Throwing her head back, she sang her thanks to Artemis, the moon goddess shining brightly in the velvet sky. Then she melded with the shadows and disappeared into the forest.

* * *

Megan jumped as the sound of gunfire reached her ears, rocking the canoe. "Take it easy, Megan," Blair said quietly. "Dee's fine." 

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and wrapped Dee's coat tighter around herself, shivering as an inhuman howl carried across the water. She saw Blair's back muscles tighten in front of her, and his paddle hesitated for a second before dipping into the water again. Reaching forward, she gave his shoulder a squeeze, then said, "Sandy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question, if it's not too personal?"

He hesitated a moment, then said, "Sure."

"Those marks you and Dee painted on her face... what were they?" 

Blair inhaled sharply; and she sensed he hadn't expected her to ask that. "They're kind of a summons, calling on the power of her Goddesses to help her. Athena, Goddess of War, on her forehead, Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt on her right cheek--"

"And on her left?"

Blair's answer was a soft hiss. "Death."

Shutting her eyes, Megan leaned her head in her hands, remembering the images of Diandra battling the slavers from her dream. Those men didn't stand a chance. Tears burned behind her closed eyelids as she fought back a wave of nausea. Sandy had to know what she was doing. How could he stand it, how could he love someone who could kill so easily, so casually? 

"Chief?" Jim's tone was hesitant, as if he had no right to ask anything of his guide.

"Yeah, Jim?" Blair replied, a bone-deep weariness underlying those two words.

"What are the Amazon rules of war?"

Megan answered for him, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach increasing. "There are only two. Take no prisoners, and don't be taken prisoner." 

"Oh," was all he said.

They were silent for a few minutes then, each of them straining to hear something, anything, that would let them know what was happening on the shore behind them. 

The raw cry of rage and triumph came again. "Two down and three to go," Jim said under his breath, but both Megan and Blair heard his quiet words.

* * *

Ah, this was much, much too easy. Diandra crouched on a low tree branch, waiting for her prey to come to her. She shook her head in disgust. They called themselves warriors... crashing through the brush, rushing toward her each time she let out a war cry, their modern weapons making them fearless. Charon would have a full boatload tonight.

The final two gang members passed underneath her hiding place, gagging in horror at the remains of their comrades. She dropped lightly to the ground behind them, making a clicking noise with her tongue to get their attention. Twin blades flashed through the air as they turned toward her, and the last of Cristo's men were vanquished. 

She bit back her cry of victory this time, not wanting to spook Cristo into running. Sheathing her swords, she centered herself and listened, discarding the three heartbeats to the east, concentrating on the one closest to her. "Gotcha!" she whispered as she narrowed his position down to about a mile southwest of her. He was probably awaiting the return of his men at Simon's cabin. Her lips drawing back in a snarl, she headed into the woods once more.

* * *

Blair lifted the paddle out of the water, moved it forward, dipped it in again, and pulled it back. He put every ounce of concentration into it, mind, body, soul, everything, so he wouldn't think about what had happened, what was happening.

He vaguely heard Jim say that Cristo was the only one left. He abruptly found it hard to breathe, but kept up the rhythm. Lift, move, dip, pull. This was his fault, all of it. His arms and shoulders ached from the unaccustomed exertion, but all he could feel was the pain in his heart. He'd told her he loved her, hadn't he? He switched the paddle to the other side of the canoe, and peered into the darkness. It hadn't taken this long to get from the island to the lake's western shore; were they going in the right direction?

What if she didn't come back? He knew she'd promised, but... . By the time she was finished, five people would be dead. He would understand it if she ran. He would still love her, though. He didn't think that would ever change, kind of like his relationship with Jim. Oops, shouldn't have gone there, shouldn't have gone there...

Blair had felt the tension between the Sentinel and the Champion escalating. Jim had drawn his weapon, was pointing it at Dee, her hand was on the hilt of her sword. He'd stepped between them, confident he could keep them apart. After all, Dee loved him, she would never hurt him, and he was Jim's friend, his partner, his guide, his soulmate. Jim could never shoot him.

Or so he'd thought. He'd felt the slight movement of air as the bullet rushed past his left ear, heard the shot echo over and over in the sudden silence. In that split second, everything had changed.

He had seen the frustration, the anger on Jim's face before, and always he'd attributed it to the fact that Jim just didn't like Diandra. Oh, he was more tolerant of her than he had been, but his original feelings were still there, he had just grown more proficient at camouflage. Blair had never dreamed that Jim's anger had extended to him. It had been in Jim's eyes for just a fraction of a second, before the realization of what he'd almost done had hit him.

Blair didn't want to think about that look. Jim was fine, Megan was fine, Dee was fine, and Blair would... Blair would find someplace nice and quiet to go to pieces. He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, and moved his paddle through the water.

* * *

Diandra approached the cabin slowly, keeping her hearing trained on Cristo. She had picked up the sound of hammering a half a mile away, and she wondered what in the hell he was building. He seemed pretty happy about it, laughing and chuckling to himself about the irony of what he had in store for Megan and Jim.

The sensation hit her about 50 yards from the cabin, the headache and nausea coming as a complete shock. There was no need to hide herself now, so she walked calmly into the clearing, drawing her sword. What she saw sickened her. Cristo had nailed 6-foot long pieces of wood perpendicularly to two tall pines, about ten feet up the tree trunk, making two crude, but effective crosses. Now she knew what he had meant by ironic: Jesus Cristo crucifying his enemies.

Strangely though, the drug dealer seemed unaware of her presence. He faced the make-shift crucifixes, doubled over in pain. "Cristo!" she yelled. "I challenge you!"

He turned toward her, his face registering his surprise at her appearance. Diandra realized he had no idea what he was, no notion he was immortal. For the slightest of moments she hesitated. As an Immortal, she was bound by the unwritten code to explain to him what he was, and send him to a teacher, if not to teach him herself. A brief glance with her 'other' sight told her all she needed to know, that nothing would lessen his evil.

Bringing her katana up to shoulder height, she said, "Say your prayers, because your reign of terror is over."

He laughed at her, his goateed face breaking into a broad grin. "I don't think so, bitch, or whoever the hell you are. If you kill me, like my namesake, I will be resurrected."

Diandra gave him a feral smile as her blade whistled through the air. "Not this time, asshole."

* * *

Mentally grabbing hold of the pain dial, Jim gave it another twist, and the throbbing in his arm lessened. Too bad there wasn't a dial for emotional agony. He shook his head, trying to get the image of his guide's shocked expression as he realized Jim had actually pulled the trigger out of his mind. Thank god for Megan's quick reflexes. She had grabbed for the gun just as his finger had squeezed the trigger, shifting his aim the fraction of an inch it took to turn a fatal shot into a miss. The betrayal he had seen in Blair's eyes had made him want to turn the gun on himself.

Part of him wanted to believe it had been an accident narrowly averted, but another side was labeling it a wake-up call. How had everything gotten so out of hand, so out of his control? When Diandra moved in next door, the voice inside him answered. That's when everything changed, that's when Blair had quit depending on him, had quit listening to him. Hadn't he told Blair right from the start that she was trouble? But did he listen? No, and it had almost gotten him killed on more than one occasion.

A second voice entered the argument in his head. That wasn't entirely true, she'd saved his guide's life in more than one instance. She had been able to protect Blair when Jim hadn't. Hell, she was more of a "Blessed Protector" than he was. He wouldn't be surprised if after tonight, Blair chose to be with her. She was out there right now, killing to protect him.

That was what he didn't understand. How could Blair, who would cross the street to avoid stepping on an insect, love someone with her capacity for violence? He looked back toward the western shore of the lake. There was no need for what she was doing; they would have gotten away, or could have worked together to capture their attackers. There was no reason except her own need for vengeance, for blood. 

The sound of an explosion jolted Jim from his morbid thoughts. "Oh my god!" Megan cried, twisting to look back the way they'd come. Lightning could be seen illuminating the area near Simon's cabin, and the wishful thought that crossed Jim's mind was maybe all his problems had been solved.

A loud gasp from his guide brought him back to the situation at hand. "Chief, you okay?" he asked.

Megan laid a hand on Blair's back. "Sandy, what is it, what's wrong?" 

His answer was a low groan, and he doubled over, his arms wrapped around his chest. "Shit, shit, shit, shit," he chanted through clenched teeth. 

A final bolt of energy shot into the air, followed by another explosion, then there was silence, save for Blair's loud gasps for air. "Oh, man," he finally managed between pants, "that was not pleasant." 

"Are you all right, Sandy? Are you hurt?"

"No, no. It's not me-- it's Dee-- our connection-- " He realized he wasn't making any sense.

"Should we go back?" Megan asked worriedly. "Is something wrong with Dee?"

Blair shook his head. "No, no, she'll be--she's fine, she's okay. Damn, that wasn't something I expected to feel again." He shivered.

"We're almost to the island, Chief," Jim said, unable to discuss what had just happened in front of Megan. "Just take it easy until we get there."

"Okay," Blair agreed weakly, and handed his paddle to Megan, who joined Jim in stroking toward the shore.

* * *

The final explosion nearly deafened her. Diandra sank to her knees in the cold snow, hands pressed over her ears. Her eyes and skin burned with residual Quickening energy, and she shook herself, as if that could get rid of the feeling she'd been dipped in raw sewage.

She heard Lobo's reassuring voice in her head, reminding her to turn down the dials. Twisting them as far to the left as she could, she let out a sigh of relief. Goddess, who would have thought a new Immortal would have such a strong Quickening? If he'd had a few years and a few heads behind him, Cristo would have been formidable. Now, though, he was just dead, and a weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying had been lifted from her shoulders.

Getting to her feet, Dee surveyed the area. Captain Banks wasn't going to be too happy about his cabin. Flames from the propane tanks' explosion still burned amid the wreckage. She hoped his insurance covered acts of God.

With a sigh, she gathered up Cristo's remains and headed to the secluded clearing where the rest of his men lay. The night wasn't over yet.

* * *

Several hours later, Dee was satisfied she'd destroyed all evidence of what had transpired. The bodies had been burned and the ashes and any items not consumed by the fire had been deposited in the lake. She'd torn down the makeshift crosses and used the wood as fuel for the funeral pyre. Finding their SUV a ways down the road from Simon's cabin, she'd driven it to the top of a cliff overlooking the lake.

Dee had hidden her swords, unable to thoroughly clean them, and not wanting to expose the ancient blades to more water than was necessary. She would retrieve them in a few days. Stripping out of her clothes, she tied them in a bundle and dropped them over the edge of the mountain into the lake. Climbing into the SUV, she started the engine, gunned it, and drove off the cliff, leaping out the open door just before the truck hit the surface of the water. 

The shock of entering the cold liquid forced the air from her lungs, and she found herself struggling not to drown as she kicked her way to the surface. Her head emerged, and she gasped for breath, treading water until her racing heart had calmed, and her lungs no longer ached. Once she had her bearings, she began to swim eastward, toward MacLeod's island, pushing the thought that the freezing water and her own exhaustion might do her in before she reached it to the back of her mind.

* * *

Blair tossed another log on the fire, and pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders, reflecting on that night's events. He glanced briefly back over his shoulder at MacLeod's cabin, imagining Megan and Jim discussing his descent into insanity. Shivering, he scooted closer to the flames. Okay, so maybe waiting on the beach in 20-degree weather for Dee to show up wasn't the brightest idea in the world, but he'd needed to get out of the cabin, and away from the looks they had been giving him. 

He knew they didn't understand how he could still care for her, still love her knowing she had killed five men in cold blood. He ran his hands through his tangled hair in frustration. He knew how they felt. If tonight's events had happened twenty-four hours ago, he'd have thought the same thing, would have tried to talk her out of it, would have let Jim shoot her, if that had meant saving her from herself. 

But last night had changed everything. The sharing of Hale's Quickening had opened his eyes, had let him see what she saw, feel what she felt. And contrary to what Jim and Megan thought, she was no cold-hearted warrior. She was a tigress guarding her cubs, a Champion defending her tribe, a woman protecting the people she called family. He couldn't judge her for actions based on nearly 3,000 years of experience. Hell, even if she hadn't been consciously aware of the reasons behind her rage at Cristo, she had been right. Somehow, on a subconscious level, she'd known he was a danger only she could deal with, an Immortal. And he could talk until he was blue in the face, and still not make Jim and Megan understand. 

He shivered again. Damn it was cold. Blair poked at the fire, wondering again what he was doing sitting on the beach. Hell, Dee probably wouldn't show up until morning, though it was almost that now, and logic dictated that she would be coming from the opposite side of the lake, where he knew there was another canoe stashed. If she came at all. No, he wasn't going to think that. She'd promised she would come back, and he knew she wouldn't break that vow.

The sound of something moving in the lake caught his attention. Peering into the darkness, Blair saw a tall, lithe form emerge from the black liquid, droplets of water sparkling like diamonds on her bare skin, blue eyes meeting his across the fire's flames. With a little sigh, she collapsed to the sand and was still.

Blair was at her side in an instant, throwing the blanket over her, yelling for Jim, as he felt for a pulse at her throat. Oh, god, she was so cold, her skin icy to his touch. "Hang on, Dee, hang on," he pleaded with her. Where in the hell was Jim?

* * *

Ellison sat down on the couch with a sigh. The Immortal was nuts, plain nuts. Who in their right mind would take off all their clothes and swim across a lake in below freezing weather? He ran both hands through his hair and grimaced at the pain that shot through his left arm. Helping Sandburg carry her up from the beach hadn't helped that injury any. Stretching, he yawned, and checked on the trio in the next room with his hearing.

Diandra was still out of it; she hadn't regained consciousness since she had collapsed in front of Blair, and that was, he glanced at his watch, over an hour ago. Christ, was it that late? He should have checked in with Simon hours ago. And just what was he going to tell his captain, he asked himself. He decided he would save checking in until he came up with a good story. He focused on the low voices in the other room again. 

Once they'd gotten Diandra to the cabin, they had to raise her body temperature, which Jim had estimated to be nearly ten degrees below normal, assuming Immortals were the same as mortals in that regard. Without hospital facilities, they'd had to resort to a more low-tech treatment: body heat. Blair and Megan had stripped down to their underwear and crawled in bed with her, and it seemed to be working, albeit slowly. 

Jim wasn't too worried by the fact she hadn't woken up yet, but Sandburg was. He seemed to think Dee was in a trance state, rather than simply unconscious. He and Megan were trying to reach her, though it sounded like they were running out of steam, if the slow, even breathing he was hearing was any indication. He tuned in on the Immortal's heartbeat, and was shocked to find both Blair's and Megan's hearts in sync with hers. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. It was times like these he knew how Simon felt. 

Still, he supposed there was no harm in it. It was just... weird.

He must have dozed off, because he awoke to the sensation of something poking him in the chest. Opening his eyes, he found the tip of a sword poised directly above his heart. His gaze traveled up the blade to its wielder, a small, wiry redhead dressed in an impressive amount of leather and brass armor. A band of gold encircled her brow, and her blue eyes flashed dangerously. "What is the meaning of this, Sentinel?" she growled. "Why do you not aid your Guide in his fight?"

At her words, Jim half rose from the couch, but the point of her weapon dug into his skin, and he thought better of it. "What are you talking about? Blair's fine, he's in the other room, asleep."

She shook her head, her long braid bobbing with the motion. "The Guide walks in my world, along with the young one. They seek to save his lover, her would-be Champion, from death. Why do you not walk with them?"

This is crazy, Jim thought. Who in the hell is this woman and what is she babbling about? "Immortals can't die unless you take their head. Dee's just unconscious; she'll be fine."

"She's dying, Sentinel!" the woman warrior screamed at him. "Do you think I do not know death when I see it? I have seen more death than you can even begin to comprehend. Diandra's immortality is worthless if her soul is lost!"

Jim simply blinked at her, confused. 

"Oh, Athena, grant me your patience and your wisdom," she prayed, rolling her eyes heavenward. Turning her gaze back to Jim, she began to speak in the tone grownups used with very small children. "Sentinel, if a Champion does not bond with a Companion within a certain amount of time after receiving Artemis' gifts, those gifts overwhelm her. Unable to control her senses, she retreats into herself, in Diandra's case, into the spirit world, and blocks out the physical world around her. Soon, no one will be able to reach her, to bring her back."

That made a kind of sense, Jim supposed. After all, when his heightened senses had returned, he'd thought he was going insane. Why would it be any different for a Champion? "Okay, that I understand, but what's the problem? Megan's agreed to be her companion."

The woman shook her head. "The little one is afraid. She is having trouble accepting what Diandra is, accepting that part of the Champion's role is to protect her Companion, her lover, her family, by whatever means necessary, to be judge, jury and executioner, if that is what it takes to keep them safe."

Jim clenched and unclenched his jaw. "So Megan has doubts about bonding with a killer. I don't blame her."

The Amazon moved without warning, and Jim suddenly found her kneeling over him, her blade pressed tight against his throat. "What has she ever done to you, Sentinel?" Her face inches from his, Jim could clearly see the tears forming in her eyes. "Has she ever harmed you? Harmed someone you loved? What crime has she committed against you?"

He realized it was a rhetorical question when the pressure on his neck increased as he opened his mouth to answer. Wisely, he let her continue.

"Oh wait, I forgot, Diandra has committed the most deadly sin of all. She dared to love your Guide." Her eyes stared into his, their fire undiminished by the tears rolling down her face. "That is it, is it not? You hate her because your Guide loves her. What kind of man are you, what kind of Sentinel are you, that you would deny your soulmate that happiness? And what do you think will happen to him if she dies? And to you? The three of you are bound together, your life forces intertwined. She cannot return from the spirit world without your help; Megan cannot bond with her without your support." Jim could feel the edge of her sword cutting into his skin, a warm trickle of blood running slowly down his neck. "I will not let you do this to her, or to your Guide, or to hers. Put aside your own fear for once and just believe in the goodness of someone else's heart!" 

He hesitated, and that must have triggered something in the Companion, for she gestured with her hand, and the interior of MacLeod's cabin became a lush meadow. The first slivers of a golden dawn shone on the horizon, turning the scattered clouds cotton candy pink. The Amazon pushed against the Sentinel's back, and getting the hint, he began to walk toward the center of the field of flowers, his keen sight picking out the familiar form of his guide kneeling in the grass, Megan next to him, something large and black cradled in her lap. 

As they drew closer, Jim could see the two guides were seated on either side of the black mare's outstretched neck, her heavy head sprawled across the Aussie's legs. "Look at her," the Companion hissed. "Do you still believe she will be fine?" Jim shook his head slowly, listening to the mare's labored breathing, watching her exhausted muscles twitching under her sweat soaked hide. 

Megan glanced up, as if noticing the pair for the first time. "I can't help her, Jim," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I promised I would, and I can't."

Blair turned his face toward the Sentinel then, his Shaman's face paint streaked and blurred by tears. "Jim, man, you have to help us. We can't let her die; I can't lose her, not like this."

Stepping around Jim, the Companion knelt by her Champion, her hand stroking the quivering neck. "Please, Diandra," she pleaded, "please come back to us. It isn't your time yet. We need you, all of us need you." 

Her emphasis on "all of us" was not lost on Jim. Gazing once more into his guide's anguished eyes, he saw the small spark of hope within, the hope that his Sentinel could prevail where he had failed. Jim dropped to his knees next to Megan, winding his fingers through the mare's soft mane. "Diandra," he whispered, "we're all here now, waiting for you. You have to make a decision, you have to choose a Companion. Megan is here, she is willing to stand by your side, to watch your back, to be your friend, your partner, your soulmate. She's a good guide, Dee, she saved my ass more than once over the past few days. Yeah, she's young, and inexperienced, and she'll make mistakes, but she'll learn because she'll have the best teacher in the world, you."

"Please, Dee," Blair pleaded, "you promised me you would come back to me. I love you so much, angel, please don't leave us."

Megan stoked the black mare's velvety muzzle and said softly, "Dee, you have to give me a chance. I know I would be a good companion, if I only got the chance to try."

The Amazon Queen leaned over and kissed the horse's broad cheek. "Go to her, my heart, my love. She is the one you have been searching for."

At the Companion's words, the mare shimmered, her form blurring, then stabilizing, then blurring again. When the rippling stopped, the mare was gone, and in her place lay Diandra, dressed in a long white toga, her head resting in Megan's lap. Her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was her companion smiling down at her. She reached up her hand, and Megan pulled her into a hug, the Immortal's tears wetting her shoulder. Reaching behind her, Diandra found Blair, and his arms encircled her from behind as he buried his face in her hair. Dee turned her head to the side, her eyes meeting the Sentinel's. 

She held out her hand to him, the gesture unexpected, but clearly understood. She was offering him a place in her family; all he had to do was accept it. Without hesitation, Jim's hand gripped hers, and he knew the tears on her face mirrored his own. 

The Companion rose to her feet, and bent over her Champion, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. Leaping in the air, Lydia shifted into the red falcon, her strong wings carrying her rapidly aloft, her joyful cry heralding the dawn of a new day.

* * *

Sunlight was streaming through the cabin windows when Jim finally opened his eyes. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't at Simon's place, but at MacLeod's, and another few seconds to notice he was no longer on the sofa in the living area. Instead, he was lying on a small sliver of mattress in the bedroom, his guide snoring softly next to him.

Blair lay on his back, the covers bunched around his waist, both arms around his lover. Diandra was sprawled over his right side, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm across his chest, and her hand somewhere in between the two men. Jim could make out the top of Megan's head over Dee's bare shoulder. She seemed to be spooned up behind the Amazon, her arm thrown over the other woman's hips. Jim felt a flush creeping across his face as his slowly awakening brain realized that he was the only one fully dressed.

He started to sit up, and discovered his right hand was trapped. Glancing down, he found Dee's fingers still curved around his, and as he watched, they tightened briefly, then released his hand. He looked up to find her blue eyes regarding him tenderly. A small smile curved her lips, and she spoke, her voice pitched for his ears only. "Thank you."

Uncomfortable with her gratitude, he shrugged, then said, "You would have done the same for me."

Dee moved her hand to rest lightly on Blair's chest. "But it would not have cost me nearly as much." She yawned then, and laid her head back down on her human pillow. Her eyes slid closed, and she was asleep again almost immediately. 

Shaking his head slowly, Jim rose and headed for the kitchen. A glance at his watch showed it was nearly 10 am. Simon was probably worried sick. After stirring up the fire in the hearth, starting one in the stove, and putting on the coffeepot, Jim tracked down Blair's cell phone and dialed the Captain's number. 

A terse "Banks" greeted him.

"Uh, Simon, it's Jim."

"Ellison! Where in the hell are you? Are you and Connor all right?" The captain's bellow was so loud Jim had to hold the phone away from his ear.

"Yeah, we're fine, just fine. We, uh, decided to hook up with Sandburg and Pallas last night."

Jim could hear Simon biting down on his cigar. "Was that before or after you blew up my cabin?"

He feigned innocence. "Someone blew up your cabin? It was fine when we left, sir." That, at least, was the truth.

"And where in the hell is Brown's truck?"

"I don't have a clue, Simon," he said honestly. "We left it in the ditch about half a mile from the cabin, and didn't have a reason to go back and check on it. Since it was stuck, we didn't figure anyone would steal it." An unpleasant thought crossed his mind. "Uh, sir, where exactly are you?"

"Same place I've been since about 8 am, Jim. Freezing my butt off while the Seacouver sheriff and the local fire department try to figure out what exactly happened to **my** cabin. Some hunter out on an early start called it in. Guess he smelled the smoking ruins and went to investigate. There are signs someone had a big bonfire up here too, about a mile from here. You don't happen to know anything about that either, do you?"

"No, sir, I don't," Jim answered, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ward off a headache. "But look on the bright side, sir, at least Connor and I weren't there."

His friend was silent for a moment, then said in a more somber tone, "Yeah, thank god for that. You don't suppose this was Cristo's work?"

"Hard to tell, sir. I'm just glad Sandburg and Connor's ordeal is almost over."

"Speaking of Sandburg, what in the world made you decide the four of you needed to be together? Friday you were dead set on staying apart."

Shit. Jim had been hoping Simon wouldn't pick up on that little inconsistency. "I'm not sure you really want to hear the answer to that, Captain. It was a, uh, Sentinel/Guide crisis kind of thing."

He could hear the wheels turning in his friend's mind. "Is it resolved?" he finally asked.

"Yes, Simon, it's resolved."

"Then I don't want to hear about it." He changed the subject. "You need any help getting back in time for the grand jury tomorrow?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Simon. I think that's covered. I'll let you know if we need anything, but right now I think it's going to be smooth sailing from here on out."

"All right, Jim, you take care. And I'll ask around about H's truck. Maybe some over zealous ranger had it towed. See you on Monday." 

Jim disconnected the call and turned off the phone. He stared at it for a moment, letting out a small sigh. He hated lying to his captain, but if he ever found out what had really happened... Blair's voice from the doorway startled him.

"Thanks, Jim." At his puzzled look, Blair explained. "For not telling Simon about what Dee did to Cristo and his men. I owe you big time."

Jim shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, Chief. Coffee?" Blair nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he watched Jim pour the steaming caffeine into two mugs. "You've got that look, Sandburg. What's on your mind?"

Blair accepted the cup he handed him, and headed for the living room, Jim following. "We need to talk, Jim, really talk, about where we go from here." He took a seat in the overstuffed armchair catty-cornered from the couch.

Feeling his stomach knot at his guide's words, Jim sank heavily onto the sofa. "Okay, Chief, go ahead."

Blair sipped his coffee for a few minutes, attempting to gather his jumbled thoughts and emotions into some kind of presentable form. Finally he quit trying to find a gentle way to put it, and said simply, "I love Dee." Jim opened his mouth to reply, and Blair cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Please, Jim, just listen to what I have to say before jumping to any conclusions."

Taking a deep breath, he fingered a loose thread on the knee of his sweatpants, then spoke. "You've known me for, what, almost five years now?" At Jim's hesitant nod, Blair continued. "And in all that time, I think it's safe to say my longest relationship with a woman lasted about two weeks... well, I'm not counting Maya, that was... a mistake." He stared into his coffee mug for a moment. "When I met Dee, all that changed. I haven't looked at or thought about another woman for nearly six months. I haven't dated, hell, I haven't flirted with anyone but her. I haven't wanted to, I haven't needed to. For the first time in my life, I know what real love is."

He sat his coffee down on the table and ran both hands through his tousled curls. "She makes me a better person, Jim. Somehow she sees inside of me, sees only the good things, sees all my potential, all my pluses and none of my minuses. She makes me feel... god, it's so hard to describe... valuable, I guess. You'll have to admit there've been times this past year when I felt pretty useless, to you and to myself."

"Chief--"

The guide shook his head. "I don't feel that way anymore, and I know it's because when I look in her eyes, I wanna be the man she sees inside me. I know you must think I'm crazy. I mean, she's nearly 3,000 years old, and I'm barely thirty, and the nature of our lives is such that each time we walk out the door, we don't know if either of us is going to come back. The amazing thing is, I can live with that, I want to live with that, if it means she'll be in my life. I know things aren't going to last forever, that in a couple years, she'll have to move on, and I won't go with her, but I want to be with her for as long as the fates allow."

He paused, taking a long swallow of his cooling coffee, then meeting Jim's eyes again. "You are my Sentinel, and I am your Guide. My relationship with Dee is never going to change that. We are soulmates, you and I, but Dee is the mate of my heart. Please don't make me choose between the two of you, Jim, because I will always choose you, and you will always wonder if I made the right choice."

Jim looked into his partner's face, seeing hope and fear mingling in his eyes. The Companion's words came back to him in a rush. What kind of man was he, to deny his partner, his guide, his soulmate, that kind of happiness? "I won't make you choose, Blair. I just need to know one thing. Does she feel the same way about you?"

"Yes," said Dee quietly from the bedroom doorway. She walked into the room, clothed, Jim was glad to note, in a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of long underwear. Settling herself on the arm of Blair's chair, she rested her hand on his shoulder, and his came up to cover it. A look passed between them, and Jim could swear an entire conversation was carried out in the few seconds before she turned her gaze back on him. "I love Lobo, Ellison, though I don't have the talent to say it quite as beautifully as he does. To borrow from him, Blair is the mate of my heart." She smiled down at him, and Jim watched his guide's face light up at her attention. Witnessing that moment between them, the Sentinel knew he'd made the right decision.

A yawn from the other side of the room broke the spell. Megan leaned against the doorjamb, stretching, dressed in clothes that were obviously Dee's. The sleeves of the sweater came down over her hands, and she'd rolled the bottom of the leggings up. She yawned again, and said, "What'd I miss?"

"Oh, not much," Dee laughed, "just the signing of the Pallas-Ellison peace treaty." She shot a glance at Jim, and was relieved to see he was smiling.

Pushing her tangled hair back, Megan walked further into the room. "About bloody time, you two." She gave Jim a playful swat on the back of the head. "See, you should have listened to me." Eyeing the coffee mug in Blair's hand, she said, "Any chance of getting something to eat? I'm starving."

"Sure, Pajara," Dee said, getting up. She started toward the kitchen then turned toward the cabin's front door, her expression intense.

"Dee, what is it?" Megan asked.

"We have company," Blair answered for her. He got to his feet, his hand going automatically to her shoulder, helping her focus. "Friend or foe?"

Dee frowned, her expression puzzled. "Friend, but--" Crossing to the door, she opened it, surprising the man standing there. "Duncan? What are you doing here?"

The dark haired Immortal recovered quickly. "Diandra," he said, pulling her into a quick hug. "Joe sent me out to check on you. He said there might have been some problems last night?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and inclined his head toward the three people behind her. 

She shook her head, indicating not here, not now to him. "We're fine. Come on in, and let me introduce you to everyone." Taking his hand, she dragged him into the cabin. "Duncan MacLeod, this is Megan Connor, she's a police Inspector from New South Wales on exchange with the Cascade PD." 

Duncan shook her hand, as a self conscious Megan managed to mumble, "Pleased to meet you."

"And this is Detective Jim Ellison of the Cascade PD."

Jim took the extended hand, saying, "We've already met."

"Yes, we have," Duncan echoed, his eyes hard.

"Duncan, behave!" Dee warned, punching him lightly in the arm. "And this," she said, reaching out her hand to Blair, "is Blair Sandburg, anthropologist slash police observer and mi corazon, mi quierido." 

Duncan turned toward her, a grin spreading across his face. "So this is the famous Blair Joe talks so much about?" At her nod, Duncan enveloped a stunned Blair in a bear hug. "Glad to hear the two of you are back together," he said softly in Blair's ear, then added, "but if you ever hurt her again, there'll be a line forming to beat the crap out of you."

"I understand completely," Blair replied, a little shocked by the other man's vehemence, but glad there was someone besides him looking out for Diandra's happiness. "I promise it won't happen again."

"Okay, folks," Dee said, a hand on Duncan's collar tugging him away from the Watcher, "who wants to help me fix breakfast?"

After breakfast, the mixed group of mortals and immortals decided to check out the remains of Simon's cabin to see if anything of Jim and Megan's could be salvaged. Duncan volunteered to pair off with Diandra in one canoe, while Blair, Jim and Megan took the other.

Once they were out on the lake, and enough distance separated the two watercraft that a conversation could only be overheard by Sentinel ears, Diandra glanced back at MacLeod and said, "Okay, you got me alone for a reason, so spill it."

Chuckling softly, Duncan shook his head. "I never could keep anything from you. All right, to be honest, I'm dying of curiosity. Who in the hell are these people, Dee? Joe talks about Blair like he's adopted the man, and then in the same breath he swears he will kill him if he hurts you again. And from our only conversation regarding Detective Ellison, I figured the next time I saw him he'd be missing a body part or two. I'm not quite sure what to make of the lovely Inspector, but judging by the way she looks at you, there's more going on under the surface there as well.

"And most importantly, how come they feel like one of us? I thought I'd walked in on an Immortal convention when I entered the cabin. They can't all be pre-immortals."

"They're not, Mac." She sighed. "You've been around awhile; have you ever heard of Sir Richard Burton's sentinel research?"

Duncan nearly let the paddle be yanked out of his hands as he dipped it in the water without stroking. "Sentinels? This is about Sentinels?"

"So you've heard of them?"

"Heard of them! Hell, Dee, I was on the trip with Burton when he first encountered them in Paraguay."

Now it was Dee's turn to be surprised. "You never said a word."

"I didn't know that was the subject, besides, I didn't think there were any left. They were a dying breed when Burton wrote about them." He cast an appraising eye at the occupants of the other canoe. "Let me guess, Ellison's a sentinel, right? That would make Blair his guide. So Megan's the pre-immortal?"

"She's a guide too, Duncan."

"What's a Sentinel need with two guides?"

Diandra turned halfway around to grin at him. "Megan's my guide."

This time Duncan did drop his paddle.

By the time they had detoured back for it, the others had already reached the shore and were waiting impatiently for them as the two immortals dragged their canoe up on the beach. If Ellison had overheard any part of their conversation, he gave no sign of it.

"Sorry," Dee apologized, "someone couldn't hang on to his paddle." She'd brought Duncan up to speed on some of the other particulars, such as the fact that Blair and Jim knew about Immortals, but Megan was in the dark.

It took them a good half-hour to hike to the cabin, and once there, Jim, Megan and Blair began to investigate the ruins. It didn't look quite as bad as it had the night before, Dee decided. Most of the damage had been contained to the kitchen, though the two walls on that side of the building would need serious help, and a new roof was definitely in order.

Dee walked over to where Duncan was examining scorch marks on the trunk of a large pine. "This your work?" he asked. At her nod, he continued, "That's why Joe called me. Your watcher had reported in about a Quickening, and he was afraid it was yours."

"Not this time," she replied, running forward a couple steps and leaping up to grab the tree's lowest branch. Hoisting herself up, she climbed until Duncan could no longer see her through the branches. A few minutes later she reappeared, moving easily from limb to limb, pausing on one about fifteen feet up, then leaping to the ground, tucking into a flip before executing a perfect landing.

"Show off," Duncan remarked.

She stuck her tongue out at him and fussed with the position of her swords on her back, their retrieval being the reason she'd climbed the tree in the first place. As hard as she tried to act like everything was fine, her friend sensed there was something bothering her. "Maybe you can clear something up for me," he said. "Joe told me that the people after Blair were drug dealers, not Immortals. So how did you end up taking someone's head last night?"

Closing her eyes, Dee turned her face away from Duncan, biting her lip. She felt his hands grip her shoulders gently, and she didn't resist as he turned her back toward him. "Duncan.-- I--he wasn't the only one I killed last night." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I didn't know he was immortal; I just knew I couldn't let him hurt anyone anymore. I killed his men, then went after him. I challenged him, and discovered he had no idea what I was talking about; he was a new immortal, knew nothing of us, or the Game. I killed him anyway."

"Diandra-- "

She shook her head. "I couldn't let him go, rules be damned. He was evil. If I let him escape, told him what he was, he would have become a threat to us-- another Xavier St. Cloud, an immortal who disobeyed all the rules of conduct, who betrayed his own kind."

Duncan pulled her into a hug, and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "Do you know what he was going to do to Jim and Megan? He was going to crucify them, right there, on the tree I just climbed." She raised her eyes to his, her expression intense. "There was no way I was going to let him do that-- no way I was going to let him live for even thinking about doing such a thing." A movement behind Duncan caught her eye. 

Megan stood there, her face white, her eyes wide with fear. It was obvious she had overheard Diandra's words. Letting go of Duncan, Dee moved toward her, her arms outstretched. The Aussie hesitated for a moment, then fell into them, finally giving in to the tears she had been holding in since the night she had been attacked in Seacouver. Dee simply held her, whispering "It's okay, it's over, it's over... "

Blair and Jim exited the cabin, both of them coming immediately to the side of the two women. Without a word, Blair laid his hands on Dee's shoulders, and Jim did the same for Megan, adding their strength and support. Duncan simply watched, shaking his head slowly in amazement. Even his untrained eye could see the connection, the bond, between the Sentinels and Guides. He wondered what his friend Burton would have said, had he been there. Probably something about the Sentinel/Guide bond transcending the boundaries between two humans, turning polar opposites into friends, and friends into soulmates. For a long moment, he envied them.

* * *

Glancing at the clock on the wall outside the courtroom, Dee stifled a yawn. Court would be in session soon. She still hadn't quite recovered from the events of the past three days, despite being able to sleep in her own bed last night. She had been unable to settle down, and she finally realized it was because the bed was too empty. She took a look at the anthropologist sitting next to her on the bench. He hadn't slept well either, judging by the dark circles under his eyes. The guide on the other side of her seemed to be the exception to the rule. Megan's eyes were clear and bright, and she seemed eager to get on with the show.

Or maybe she'd just had too much caffeine. Dee seemed to recall more than one cup of coffee passing through her hands that morning.

Blair leaned a little closer and asked, "How are you holding up? You didn't have to come sit with us, you know."

"I'm fine, Lobo, just wondering where Jim is. I thought he was going to meet us here."

"He'll be here," Blair said. A man in a dark suit carrying a briefcase rushed past them and into the courtroom. "Hey, Megan, isn't that Cristo's lawyer?"

Megan nodded, then turned to Dee. "Can you hear what's going on inside?" 

Closing her eyes, the champion stretched out with her hearing, glad of Megan's guiding hand on her arm, helping her focus through her tired state. "He's telling the judge and the prosecutor that he's been unable to get in touch with his client. Now the judge is asking the defense and the prosecution to meet with him in chambers." 

"Good," said a new voice. "Maybe then you two won't have to testify." Dee opened her eyes to see Jim approaching.

"We were beginning to wonder about you," Blair said.

"I had to drive back to Seacouver to get H's truck out of impound. They towed it as an abandoned vehicle." He grimaced. "My wallet is now $200 lighter."

"Well at least that's taken care of," Megan said. "Seems like the only thing left unsolved is what to tell Simon about his cabin. He was grilling me earlier for an explanation."

"If it's that big a problem, I'll just write him a check for enough money to make him forget about finding out what happened," Dee volunteered.

Blair shook his head, suppressing a grin. "A check that big would have the IRS sniffing at his heels, wondering were he got that kind of money on a cop's salary."

Jim sighed. "Maybe he can sell his insurance agent on it being an act of God."

"Or the four of you can come up and help me rebuild," boomed Simon's voice from behind Jim. "Don't think I don't know you had something to do with it." He pinned each one of them for a few seconds with a glare, taking in the relaxed aura about them. Blair had his arm over the back of the bench, behind Dee's shoulders, and her hand rested possessively on his thigh. Diandra's other hand was entwined with Megan's, and the look in the Aussie's eyes bordered on territorial. The really strange thing was, Jim seemed to be okay with all of this. Simon could sense none of the tension or simmering anger he'd noticed before when the Sentinel was around Diandra. Something had happened that weekend, something momentous, and if it had taken his cabin exploding to get the two Sentinels to peacefully coexist, then it would be worth every penny he had to pay in repairs.

At that moment, the doors to the courtroom burst open, and the lawyers for both the prosecution and defense came out, trailed by members of the media. An impromptu press conference was convened in the hallway, and it was announced that Cristo was believed to have fled the country. 

"Guess that's our cue to leave," Jim said. 

The trio on the bench rose, Megan giving first Jim, then Dee a hug. "Thank you so much," she whispered in the Immortal's ear. "All morning I kept expecting to see Cristo come walking down the hall. Now I know it's really over."

Dee squeezed her back. "You'll never have to go through something like that again, I promise you, Pajara." Kissing her forehead gently, she stepped back. "Come on, I'll treat you all to lunch."

"It's not even 10 am, Pallas," Simon growled. "These people all have work to do."

Diandra gave him her most beatific smile. "You're invited too, Captain."

"Oh, well in that case, I know this great restaurant... ." He started off down the corridor, Megan following. 

Diandra turned her gaze to Jim. "I never thanked you properly for what you did the other night, for watching over Megan, and for finding the courage to help me." She slid her arms around the detective, giving him a long hug he awkwardly returned. 

Blair tapped Jim on the shoulder. "Come on, man. Let go of my girlfriend, and let's go eat. I'm starving," he teased. 

The two separated each giving him their own version of "the look". "Hey, no fair double teaming me!" Blair protested as a playful swipe from Jim caught him on the back of the head. He skipped backwards out of range. "Jim, man, we're going to have to have a talk about this guide abuse thing. You keep it up, and I may have to sic my girlfriend on you!"

Jim gave Dee a sideways glance. "You've been a couple for what, two days, and already he's ordering you around. You going to stand for that?"

Dee's broad grin was infectious. "No," she said, edging in Blair's direction, an evil gleam in her eye, "I'm not. Wanna give me a hand?" 

"Oh sh-- " was all Blair had time to get out of his mouth before Sentinel and Champion gave chase.

EPILOGUE

Somewhere in South America, a telephone rang. A button on the phone was pressed. "Hola."

"Jefe?" said a frightened voice.

"Si. Que paso, Frederico?" The dark haired, olive skinned man leaned back in his leather desk chair and steepled his fingers across his stomach.

"Jefe, algo malo ha sucedido. Su hermano... que pienso que él es muerto... murdered... ."

The man closed his eyes. Though not his brother by blood, they had been raised together, and Jesus had looked up to and admired the older man. "What happened? Who did this thing?"

"El policía, jefe. I think it was the policía. Jesús was betrayed by two traitors. He and five of his men are missing, and Connor and Sandburg still live."

Jesus' brother curled his hand into a fist. "Then we must have vengeance and I know just the person for the job. Contact the assassin for me. I have work for them.."

"Si, jefe." The caller disconnected. 

No matter how long it took, he would see them pay. No one messed with the family of Juan Bautista Cristo and got away with it.

Finis


End file.
